


Of Violence

by dracoqueen22



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU after Chapter 295, Canon Typical Violence, Character Death, F/M, M/M, Physical Abuse, Triggery Content, Verbal Abuse, Written Before Kubo Jumped the Shark, spousal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 170,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo and Rukia have been married for thirty years and now live in Soul Society, but something seethes beneath the surface of their happy union. A secret that may prove to change everything, and Byakuya can't help but feel caught in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Theories

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2008 and completed by April 2009. As such, it doesn't take use any of the current events in the manga. I consider it canon up to chapter 295 and AU after that. 
> 
> This fic is complete and I will be updating the chapters over the next week or so as I find the time to copy and paste. Thanks to azardarkstar for the beta-work and plot help.

**Chapter One: Theories**

"Ichigo, you seem tired," Byakuya commented, the first thing that came to mind as he greeted his brother-in-law at the door, too eager to wait for his servants to answer. Besides, his nieces and nephews preferred seeing him first rather than sour-faced Yuu or stern Kuina.

The other man gave a smile that seemed a bit too hesitant for Byakuya's liking. "Do I?" Ichigo joggled the young one in his arm, little Mikan murmuring sleepily where she lay tucked into her father's hold. "Well, Syaoran was up last night with nightmares. Something about monsters under the bed."

The Kuchiki heir lifted a brow in confusion as he stepped aside, gesturing them into his manor. "I thought she slept on a futon."

"She does. That's why I can't understand it," Ichigo responded, shifting slightly to transfer the weight of his other burden to Byakuya.

Ryuunosuke, Mikan's twin, reached out happily for his uncle. His fingers clutched as he gurgled with interest. Byakuya smiled faintly, taking the little one into his arms. Even so, he was not entirely convinced that Ichigo's story was true.

"I see," he commented noncommittally, a passing thought bouncing around in his head that was as surprising as it was disconcerting.

' _When was the last time I saw him smile other than around his children?_ ' he asked himself, then promptly clamped down on such thoughts.

It was none of his business, anyway. He was certain it had to do with occupational fatigue. Both Ichigo and Rukia were busy enough as it was, four children only added to the overwhelming sense of lost time. It did not help that Ichigo was a captain in his own right, heading Aizen's former division, or that Rukia was now a vice-captain.

Forcing himself to change subjects, though the discussion had been entirely internal, he redirected, "Where is Rukia?"

His sister was usually with Ichigo when they dropped off the children, though that had been less and less lately.

"Tou-chan, I'm hungry," Syaoran complained, tugging on the folds of her father's hakama.

Reaching down with a free hand, Ichigo patted her hair. "In a minute, sweetie," he said with considerable patience before answering Byakuya's question. "She went ahead to the office. Something about Jyuushiro wanting to meet with his higher seats early this morning."

Byakuya frowned thoughtfully. "She has been doing that a lot recently, has she not?" he questioned as Ryuunosuke made a noise of discontent. He idly shifted the weight in his arms, settling the child until he was satisfied, snuggling closer.

Shrugging, Ichigo raked a hand through his hair, badly in need of a trim. It only served to highlight how very tired he seemed.

"They've been going through a reshuffling of their positions. Kaien, stop teasing your sister."

Despite himself, Byakuya found his lips twitching in amusement. Segueing one phrase into the next, the true mark of a father that Ichigo had quickly mastered. He had chastised his son without seemingly noticing what the boy was doing. Ichigo was a natural at child-rearing, needing very little guidance. From what Byakuya had learned, it only made sense considering he had often looked after his younger sisters.

Kaien, the eldest of Ichigo's brood, tried not to look guilty as he tucked his hands behind his back. His attempt at nonchalance failed, especially when considering that he had just been poking Syaoran incessantly.

"Yes, tou-san," he mumbled, not sounding the least bit contrite. Dark blue eyes, the same shade as his mother's, sparkled with the hint of more mischief to come.

Tou-san.

Byakuya reflected on this. Kaien already thought himself too old to call his father "tou-chan" anymore. It was rather endearing and almost surreal how quickly these children were growing up. Still, Byakuya sometimes didn't envy his sister and her husband for their brood. Four was perhaps too many, not that he would trade his nieces and nephews for anything. They only served to remind him how much he had wanted children with Hisana.

In response to his boy, Ichigo rolled his eyes, though Kaien couldn't see it. Sometimes, the father was more juvenile than the son.

Amused, Byakuya turned his attention to Syaoran. "Why don't you head into the kitchen?" he suggested, remembering her declaration of hunger. "I believe that Kuina made something you will like."

Arrogant and prideful disdain fully in place, she edged away from her brother. "Ajigonomi?" Syaoran asked hopefully, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder.

It was a purely Byakuya move, something she had adopted from her uncle. It caused said man to lift an eyebrow in surprise as Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, considering her request.

"Maybe not ajigonomi but probably something just as good," he answered with a light laugh, jiggling Mikan in his hold.

She began to stir, sleepily waking.

"I don't think Byakuya-oji-san likes ajigonomi."

This seemed to flabbergast the children.

"Why not?" Kaien demanded, far too stubborn for his own good, but he was a Kurosaki after all. "I like ajigonomi." In true child-like fashion, he couldn't fathom why his uncle wouldn't enjoy his favorite snack.

In a discontented gurgle, Mikan complained about being woken and all the noise surrounding her. Seemingly unconscious, Ichigo shifted to hold her against his shoulder, one palm rubbing soothingly on her back. Content with this, Mikan settled down again, a crying session successfully averted, much to Byakuya's relief.

"Come on, nii-san," Syaoran insisted with some impatience, grabbing her brother by his upper arm. "I'm hungry."

Byakuya chuckled to himself as she began pulling him down the hallway towards where both children knew the kitchen to be. Syaoran was as bossy as ever it seemed.

The two adults, each carrying one of the twins, followed the children, tabi swishing across the polished, wooden floors.

"I do not understand why Rukia is putting in this much extra work. It is not as though she is in danger of losing her post," Byakuya commented, returning the conversation to when it had been interrupted.

Ichigo sighed. "Three pregnancies have interrupted what was supposed to be her chance," he explained, hand still in the midst of soothingly stroking his daughter's back. "To show that it was on her own merit and not on our backs. Even after more than two decades, Rukia still feels she has something to prove.

Blinking, Byakuya found himself rather surprised. "Defeating the ninth Espada was not enough? And then, the tenth at a later time?" He tilted his head. "She still feels inadequate?"

His voice echoed around them as they turned into the Kuchiki's rather expansive kitchen, large windows brightening the room where Kuina bustled busily inside. The pleasant aroma of breakfast already in the midst of cooking greeted them, even as they bumped into both Syaoran and Kaien, who had paused in the doorway. They were impatiently hungry but knew better than to rush or bother Kuina.

Setting a hand on Syaoran's shoulder, he urged the little girl inside. "I think she would like some ajigonomi, Kuina," he suggested.

His cook, a matronly woman who thought it her duty to mother anyone in sight with a firm hand, sniffed and shook her head. "This early in the morning, Kuchiki-sama?" Her words were servile but her tone reprimanding.

Out of the corner of his eye, Byakuya caught his brother-in-law give the barest hint of a smile, amused at the immediate pouting of both his children. "She's right, kiddo," Ichigo said, reaching out and ruffling Kaien's dark hair. "Real food now. Snacks later."

With a gentle push from the palm of his hand, Byakuya directed them towards the table along the far wall. It had been set up specifically for the children's use not long after he started watching them on his days off.

"Go sit and wait. Quietly." A hint of warning in his tone was evident.

"Yes, oji-san," they two sang in unison, somehow sounding as if they planned something devious for later on.

Before they could move away, however, Ichigo caught them in one hand and crouched briefly, kissing each on their forehead. He was particularly adept at ignoring Kaien's squirming, the boy beginning to feel he was too old for fatherly affection.

"Listen to oji-san," he warned, both already escaping from his grasp and scampering off to the table where they would eagerly await breakfast.

"Hai!"

Byakuya knew that they had probably been fed that morning, but like all children, they were already hungry again.

With another matronly sniff, Kuina returned to her cooking, taking the momentary interruption in stride.

"Watch them for a moment, please," Byakuya instructed.

She nodded without turning. "Hai, Kuchiki-sama."

Assured of their safety, Byakuya turned and gestured for Ichigo to follow. The two continued down the corridor, towards the room he had prepared for the twins. They were young enough to sleep a while longer before he bothered with the difficult and oftentimes messy task of feeding them as well. He would first take care of Syaoran and Kaien, both of whom required immediate attention and entertainment until they were satisfied.

Byakuya knew that he could simply leave the care of the children to his servants, but he rather enjoyed taking the duties himself. He could remember being left to the staff a great deal as a child since both his parents were often too busy themselves. He didn't want his nieces and nephews to endure that.

Alone again, the conversation continued.

"I don't understand her feelings," Ichigo commented, his voice sounding defeated, almost saddened. It was enough to catch Byakuya's instincts. "But I won't tell her to stop either."

"Perhaps I should speak with her," Byakuya mused aloud.

Ryuunosuke twitched again, only to snuggle closer into his uncle's warmth. The male twin was always so quiet and calm, rarely expressing his displeasure aloud, unlike his more quirky sister.

Ichigo shook his head. "And have me be accused of coming to you with my problems again? No, it's not really an issue."

Byakuya understood without having Ichigo clarify. "Very well."

"Besides," Ichigo continued, the two of them finally arriving at the room. "We should probably be talking about you."

Sliding open the door and gesturing his companion inside, Byakuya turned on the light, a small fan clicking on and whirring quietly. The room was rather nice, painted in a pale blue with baskets of toys in opposite corners. There was a small bed, large enough for both twins, lined with a railing to keep them from escaping once they were of age to be moving around.

Byakuya arched a brow at Ichigo's insinuation. Having known the Kuchiki heir for several decades, he understood the wordless insistence on explanation.

Grinning, Ichigo lowered his daughter onto the plush mattress, pulling back the blanket. "Made any decisions yet?"

The sixth-division captain sniffed elegantly. "If you are referring to the multitudes of offers, then no. And I do not plan to." He set Ryuunosuke in next to his sister, the twins having shown a preference for sharing a bed.

"And why not?" Ichigo posed, tucking the covers around his daughter.

She murmured and curled into her favorite position, hogging most of the bed and shoving Ryuunosuke as close to the railing as possible.

"Don't you need an heir or something?"

Feeling rather smug, Byakuya gestured towards the twins. "I have heirs aplenty," he clarified, stepping back and letting Ichigo finish settling in his children. "I do not plan to take another wife."

"Surely, there's someone."

Byakuya made a noncommittal noise in his throat. "Despite rumors there is no one."

The fifth-division captain shot him a shrewd look, visibly scoffing as he followed Byakuya out of the room. "If rumors were to be believed, you'd be having an affair with everyone in Soul Society outside of Rukia and me." Ichigo paused and reconsidered. "And Renji."

"Small favors," Byakuya stated, the implication bringing a smile to Ichigo's lips.

Poking fun at his former subordinate was something they both enjoyed. Besides, seeing Ichigo smile was becoming few and far between unless the children were involved. And the small flicker of pride in him for causing that grin was somewhat confusing.

The laughter of children interrupted their discussion, quickly followed by a very loud crash. The two captains exchanged a glance, able to guess what had just occurred. They had left two under the eye of a busy cook, after all.

Ichigo sighed, fingers rubbing briefly over his temple as the length of Zangetsu's blade knocked against the back of his legs. "I know I should investigate, but..."

Waving him, on, Byakuya shook his head. "Go. I am sure it is nothing I cannot handle."

"Thanks, Byakuya."

The other man watched as Ichigo flitted away, easily finding his own way out of the house. Another smaller crash echoed, and he thought he might have heard the reprimanding tone of his cook. Thoughts echoed in his mind at Ichigo's strange behavior, but for the moment, he had a noise to investigate.

* * *

"Byakuya-oji-san, can I talk to you?"

Putting aside his brush from the paperwork he had brought home with him, grey eyes flickered to Syaoran. She was happily playing in the garden, crawling around in the flowers. Her father would probably be angry with the amount of dirt she was accumulating, but at least, she was amused. The twins, he knew, were taking their afternoon nap.

He returned his gaze to Kaien, the young boy unusually somber. He was most often like his namesake, energetic and rather loud, oftentimes boisterous. But for the moment, he was regarding his uncle with a quiet and thoughtful look.

Concern stole its way into Byakuya's body, hoping that the child wasn't hurt.

"Of course, little one." He gestured to the empty space next to him. "What is it?"

Blue eyes flickered away from him, staring determinedly at the ground as the boy briefly chewed on his lip. "Is it normal for parents to fight?"

Byakuya furrowed his brow. "Sometimes, your parents have disagreements, I'm sure," he stated cautiously. "But I know they still love you."

He felt rather proud of himself for nipping that problem in the bud. It often wasn't hard to fix a child's problem. And it was relieving that Kaien was not injured. Byakuya was certain he was doing a better job at being an uncle than he had ever done with being a brother.

His joy was short-lived.

Kaien shook his head. "That's not it."

Inwardly, Byakuya cursed under his breath. He had thought the problem solved.

The boy took a deep breath, chewing his lip again to express just how uncomfortable he was at the moment. "I mean," he clarified. "Is it normal for okaa-san to hit otou-san."

Byakuya's eyes widened. "Your... okaa-san _strikes_ your otou-san?"

A hesitant nod was Kaien's response.

Flabbergasted and a bit disturbed, Byakuya found himself prying for more clarification. "Often?"

"Only when she's mad or tou-san did something wrong or... But otou-san never says anything back. He just looks sad..." Kaien trailed off, beginning to look visible upset as the hands in his lap curled into fists. Tears were welling up in his eyes. "Is... is that normal, or...?" He couldn't seem to form the rest of his question.

The boy sounded so much older than his years, and it made something inside of Byakuya crack painfully. No child should ask a question like that. No child should have reason to ask such a thing. It left him feeling lost, unsure what to do. Nowhere in his darkest dreams would he have imagined being put in this particular situation.

He felt as if his brain were suddenly on ice, synapses refusing to fire and give him the answers he needed. The very implication was beyond his comprehension, the very thought of it disturbing. The child was implying no simple accusation. His only relief was that there seemed no indication that Kaien or the other children had been in any danger. But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

Swallowing thickly, Byakuya reacted purely on instinct, drawing his nephew into his arms. Pale hands soothed down the boy's hair as he sought to find the right solution.

"Do not worry, little bird. It's..." He paused, trying to swallow over the lump in his throat. He didn't know what he was supposed to say in response.

Kaien was looking up at him so hopefully. He was silently asking, begging his uncle fix the problem that tormented him.

Feeling almost backed into a corner, Byakuya said the only thing he thought would ease his nephew's concerns. "I'll deal with it."

"Really?" Just the one word was filled with so much hope it was heartbreaking.

He nodded. "I promise."

With that, he knew he had sealed his doom, feeling the weight of the vow settle onto his shoulders. There was no way he could simply turn his back now or pretend he hadn't heard. A child was depending on him, after all. He had a responsibility.

The watery eyes were blinked away, replaced by a smile.

Byakuya patted Kaien's head. "Why don't you go play with your sister?"

His nephew nodded. "Un!"

Kaien slid from his lap, practically skipping and probably planning to torment his sister in any number of ways. He completely trusted Byakuya, certain that his uncle was going to solve the problem. Certain that everything was going to be just fine.

Byakuya wished he had as much confidence in himself as his nephew did.

He watched the boy immediately pounce on Syaoran, much to her displeasure. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Byakuya had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He was, however, certain that Kaien wasn't lying. There was too much truth in the boy's eyes, and Kaien was already spoiled. There was no danger of the boy telling stories simply to gain attention.

No, Byakuya was certain that something was seething beneath the surface of his sister's marriage. Whether or not he had any right to interfere was a matter of discussion. Politeness dictated that he stay out of the manner, that it was none of his business. And Ichigo had mentioned nothing; there had been no indication of anything amiss. Not that he believed the man would come to him for help in such a matter.

He quickly found himself in an awkward position, torn between his sister and his brother-in-law, the closest thing to a best friend he had. Byakuya was trapped with no clue how to even begin his escape.

"Kuchiki-sama?"

The sound of his cook's voice pulled him from his brooding thoughts. He turned to find Kuina hovering near him, face as prim as always. He supposed that since he had set Yuu to keeping a careful watch on the sleeping twins that Kuina had fallen to bringing him messages.

"Yes?"

"Abarai-taichou is here."

Byakuya tilted his head in interest, musing. "I wasn't aware that he was visiting today," he commented, more to himself than her. "Very well. Bring him in."

"Already here," another voice announced from just behind her.

Renji stepped out onto the porch a second later, his arms ladened down with bags, which were undoubtedly full of gifts. That irrepressible grin was on his former subordinate's face, red hair still sticking jauntily from the back of his head.

"Yo, Byakuya!" the other man greeted, his voice booming cheerily in the serene quiet of the Kuchiki garden. "Just thought I'd stop by on my lunch break."

He barely repressed his sigh. Ever since Renji had become captain and had married, he had managed to lose most of his restraint. He willfully came and went from Byakuya's home, addressing his former captain however he pleased. A part of Byakuya was glad that Renji had gotten over his inadequacy issues. The other half was annoyed by Renji's newfound confidence since the man now believed there were to be no boundaries.

Still, it could have been worse. Renji could have married Rukia.

Byakuya gestured towards his cook, who was regarding Renji with some disapproval. "Thank you, Kuina. Please continue preparing lunch."

She bowed and pattered away as Renji plopped down next to him, looking as well as always. He seemed to carry a glow of excitement, his work in the seventh division obviously going well. The promotion had been good for him.

"You knew the children were here, didn't you?" Byakuya posed with some amusement as Renji unloaded his burdens onto the empty spot of porch on his other side.

He grinned. "Saw right through me, eh?"

"It wasn't particularly hard," Byakuya countered as he raised a brow, eying Renji's impressive cache of bags. "And you brought gifts. Ichigo says you are spoiling them."

The other captain shot him a strange look but that stop him from scoffing. "Che. You're just jealous cause they like me better."

"Renji-oji-san!"

It was in that moment that both Syaoran and Kaien noticed the redhead's arrival, calling his name in unison. Kaien ran their direction ,while his sister followed at a more sedate pace, entirely above such a loud response.

"Hey, guys." Renji chuckled as Kaien attached himself to his knee, a calloused hand immediately settled on the boy's head, tussling his hair. "How's it going?"

Arriving behind her brother a few minutes later, Syaoran climbed up onto the porch between the two captains. "For us?" she asked, pointing to the bags with one hand. She leaned comfortably against Byakuya, thereby showing just who _her_ favorite was.

Byakuya was smug, though he tried and failed not to show it.

"Yep," Renji answered before eying Kaien critically. "I swear. You get bigger ev'ry time I see ya. You're gonna be bigger than yer old man."

"And stronger, too!" Kaien chirped, beaming proudly and causing his adopted uncle to laugh.

Hands disappearing into the bags he had brought, Renji shifted his gaze to Byakuya. "The twins nappin'?" he asked, pulling out two small bags of candy, one for each.

Byakuya inclined his head. "You should have known that." He critically eyed what Renji was handing out, inwardly cringing at the thought of what all the sugar would do to their energy levels.

Shrugging and dismissing the minor chastisement, his hand disappeared into the bag again, only to emerge with something else. "Look. I even brought something fer Byakushi."

Warily, Byakuya took the proffered item. It was a small placard that read "second best uncle," perfectly designed to sit on his desk in the office. The gift prompted him to shake his head. Sometimes, his former subordinate was still just the immature juvenile he remembered accepting into his division all those years ago.

He set the gift to the side as Kaien and Syaoran exclaimed excitedly over the small toys they were being offered. "How is your wife, Renji?"

Another grin, this time sillier than the first and obviously lovesick was Renji's response. "Hime's fine. She's not sick in the mornings anymore." He paused, one hand rubbing the back of his head. "I came home yesterday, and the nursery was already painted."

Byakuya raised a brow as Renji made a face.

"It's orange. Bright orange with green polka dots." The redhead was faintly scared by the prospect.

The sixth-division captain coughed into his hand, at a completely loss for words. He could remember Orihime offering to paint the room for the twins when Rukia had first become pregnant. At the time, Ichigo and Rukia had been too busy to do it themselves. Now, Byakuya was glad that he had turned her down, instead hiring someone to do it for them. He was frightened to imagine what color scheme the quirky woman might have insisted upon.

Renji shook his head, adjusting the plain white bandanna adorning his forehead. "She's happy 'bout it though, so I ain't complainin'. You know, I had ta run out at three in the morning the other week for vanilla ice cream. Just plain ice cream."

His brow arched. "Surprising for her," Byakuya responded, dimly registering the heat of the day. The sun was growing higher in the sky, beaming down on them and reminding him that it was becoming too warm for the children to play outside.

"You're tellin' me." Renji shifted in his seat, turning his gaze to watch Ichigo's brood as they played with their new gifts; Kaien was attempting to borrow his sister's to little success. "I haven't seen Ichigo in a while, except at the captain's meetin'. Rukia's been pretty busy, too."

Byakuya frowned. "You'll understand when you have four children of your own."

"I'm just worrying about the one for now," Renji put in with a chuckle, sitting back on the porch and placing his hands behind him against the floor. "Hime's baby shower's soon. I thought I should remind everyone. Especially Ichigo."

"He's probably forgotten. I will inform him."

His former subordinate gave him that strange look again, an almost surprised stare. But before Renji could continue their conversation, Kuina appeared once more.

"Lunch is served, Kuchiki-sama, Abarai-taichou," she informed them briefly before bowing and leaving.

Renji's stomach chose that moment to give a hungry rumble.

Byakuya regarded him amusedly. "I suppose that you invited yourself."

"Or be forced ta eat at the commissary or division for lunch?" Renji questioned as if offended before giving a fanged grin. "Of course!"

Byakuya rose to his feet, dusting off his hakama and making a note to remind one of the servants to fetch his paperwork for him. "Syaoran. Kaien. Come here."

Beside him, Renji stood as well. The two children abandoned their toys and hurried to their uncle's side. He urged them towards the door with a faint press to their backs.

"Go wash your hands for lunch."

They were more than eager to comply, having worked up quite an appetite. "Hai!"

He only noticed out of the corner of his eye when Renji gave him that bizarre look again and shook his head. Deeming it unimportant, Byakuya instead concentrated on making sure his two charges cleaned up properly without drowning themselves in the process.

For the moment, his worry of earlier was pushed to the back of his mind.

Predictably, Renji stayed for lunch.

* * *

As always, Ichigo arrived on time, exactly ten minutes after he was done with his work for the day. Yuu showed him in, while Byakuya was in the midst of looking over Kaien's schoolwork, correcting his nephew on a few simple mistakes. Syaoran was on the floor, legs kicking in the air as she hummed to herself and colored in one of her books. The twins were on the baby mat, remarkably quiet as they contented themselves with looking around.

Syaoran was the first to see him, smiling as she lurched to her feet. "Tou-chan," came the warm greeting as she moved to meet him.

"Hey, sweetheart." He scooped her up into his arms, and she laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "Did you miss me?"

"Hai," was the ever predictable answer. She giggled when he kissed her back, only ever losing her reserve for her father. Or the occasional anger towards her older brother.

Beside Byakuya, Kaien fidgeted as if he, too, wanted his father's affection but was unwilling to say so aloud. The Kuchiki hair couldn't help but smile in amusement at this, closing the book that he and his nephew had been working in.

"I think that is enough for today," he stated, much to Kaien's relief. "You are learning quickly."

"Of course," Ichigo inserted, strolling near them with Syaoran still in his arms. One free hand reached down, smoothing his son's hair. "He's a Kurosaki."

Byakuya was unconvinced. "And that is meant to reassure me?" he countered, rising to his feet and brushing down his kimono. He scowled briefly at the ink spots that had mysteriously gravitated there.

"It should." Ichigo responded, turning his attention to his son. "How's it going, squirt?"

Kaien reached behind him for one of the papers, showing his scrawled arithmetic to his father. "I only got one wrong. It's Byakuya-oji-san's fault though. He can't count."

Chuckling in amusement, Ichigo unraveled Syaoran's arms from his neck and set her on her feet. "I see. Help your sister clean up. Real quick, okay? Sanji's making your favorite tonight."

This brought an even brighter smile to his son's face. "Un!"

The two scampered off, picking up scattered homework and coloring supplies, leaving Ichigo free to wander over to the last of his children.

"Evening, little ones."

Byakuya watched in silence as Ichigo greeted the twins, kissing each on the forehead. It had surprised the older captain at first, just how affectionate the usually gruff Ichigo could be. But he supposed, given that they were children, it wasn't entirely impossible for a person to change.

Mikan cooed and gurgled in delight, kicking up her feet. Ryuu just lazily stretched. They were yet infants, but they were happy to see their father, recognizing his voice and face in an instant.

He found himself looking at his companion, wondering if he should say something. Byakuya recalled just how attached the Arrancar Nell had been to Ichigo and how well he had taken care of his sisters. Ichigo had always had it in him to be a great father, and despite not at all liking him at first, Byakuya knew that Ichigo was a great husband. He was good for Rukia.

Yet, there was a definite strain in his eyes that wasn't entirely work-related. Ichigo had been given the fifth division after the war, but with the aid of Ayasegawa-fukutaichou, everything was running smoothly. He had very little to worry about in that regard. Ichigo's stress had to be due to something else.

Byakuya tried staring, seeing if he could find any evidence of violence. The shihakushou and captain's haori covered far too much for him to notice much of anything. And either Ichigo healed too fast or Rukia never left any marks.

It took him several long seconds to realize just what exactly he was doing. The moment understanding dawned, he felt sick to his stomach. The uneasiness coiled uncomfortably, turning his insides to ice.

He had actually been checking for proof, casually and dutifully examining his brother-in-law and best friend for evidence of abuse.

What happened to happily ever after?

Byakuya knew that he needed to seek out advice. This wasn't something he could figure out on his own. It wasn't his place to interfere, but he also couldn't ignore the worry that Kaien had implanted in his heart. He had to do something. Though he did not want to admit it, the concern that the violence might be turned towards the children spurred his decision.

In cases like this, his best option was to seek the advice of his senpai. If all else failed, Ukitake Jyuushiro was unarguably the best for aid.

He watched as Ichigo gestured for Yuu enter the room, the two of them engaging in brief conversation. His butler bent to retrieve little Mikan, and Ichigo picked up Ryuunosuke, both twins gurgling happily at being removed from the floor. The sound of clanks informed Byakuya that both Syaoran and Kaien have finished cleaning the room, shoving their toys into their pockets and closing their storage chests.

"They weren't too much trouble I hope," Ichigo asked as he gestured his eldest children towards him, already heading towards the hallway. There, by the front door, coats and shoes were gathered, waiting to return to their owners.

Byakuya shook his head. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"And the crash?"

At this, both Kaien and Syaoran found themselves studying the glossy floor, pretending they knew absolutely nothing about the conversation between the two adults. Byakuya regarded them with some amusement but didn't tattle. It wasn't a big enough deal that their father would have to take care of it.

"It was merely an accident."

Ichigo looked at him in disbelief before turning to his hardly contrite children. "Spoiled," he teased them. "The both of you. If had been me, I'll bet Byakuya would've told in an instant."

"He likes us better," Kaien shot back cheekily, ever glad to have one up on his father.

Brown eyes, unusually warm, caught Byakuya's gaze. "He probably does," Ichigo agreed. "Though I think I'm growing on him."

For the first time, Byakuya found himself speechless at that unexpectedly teasing response, and he was infinitely relieved when they arrived at the front door. Ichigo briefly handed Ryuunosuke to Yuu so that he could kneel, wrestling Kaien into his shoes. It was never an easy task.

"Did you have fun with Byakuya-oji-san?" Ichigo questioned as Byakuya helped Syaoran, having a much easier time.

It was obvious that Kaien took secret pleasure in making things difficult for his father.

"Yep!" the boy chirped, gleefully fidgeting as Ichigo tried to tie on his sandals with increasing frustration.

"I found this," Syaoran inserted, holding out her hand.

Momentarily distracted, Ichigo gave her his full attention. She uncurled her fingers, showing him a faintly twitching cricket that had been hidden in her grasp. Byakuya stifled a chuckle as he finished tying her sandals with relative ease.

To his credit, Ichigo hardly blinked, already well used to his children bringing him the oddest things. "All by yourself?" he said with a grin.

Syaoran nodded, seeming incredibly proud of her deed.

Always eager for attention, Kaien pushed himself between her and his father's line of sight, trying to redirect the conversation back to him. "We saw Renji-oji-san, too!"

Brown eyes met cool grey. "Is that so?"

Byakuya shrugged gracefully. "Reni stopped by during his lunch. He wanted to remind me and _you_ of the baby shower."

Turning back to Kaien, Ichigo snorted, tugging a bit too harshly on the last of his son's sandals. "That bas-- idiot. I remember. We've already gotten the gifts."

That was all it took to remind Kaien of his uncle's visit. "Renji-oji-san brought us presents!" the boy added loudly, digging into his pocket and pulling out a fistful of candy, some of it empty wrappers.

Ichigo looked at the wrappers and exhaled loudly. He was going to kill Renji. And why didn't Byakuya stop them from eating it?

He shot an accusing glance towards his friend.

"They didn't eat it all," Byakuya said in a defensive tone, feeling as if Ichigo were questioning his uncle-ing abilities. "They were more interested in the toys."

"Toys?"

"See, tou-chan?" Syaoran uncoiled the fingers of her other hand, showing him something that Byakuya couldn't quite identify, but it was colorful. That was all that mattered to the children.

Ichigo shook his head. "Both of them spoil you terribly."

He rose to his feet, hand briefly sliding over his son's shoulder. Syaoran kissed Byakuya on the cheek, and the older man stood as well, straightening.

"I suppose Tohru will keep them tomorrow?" he posed, patting his niece on the back.

The fifth-division captain nodded, moving to Yuu. He gingerly took the twins back in his arms.

With a faint smile, Ichigo added, "Thanks for watching them, Byakuya. Kids, say goodbye to your oji-san."

"Already did," Syaoran remarked primly, stepping to her father and attaching herself to his fluttering haori.

"You know that I don't mind," Byakuya answered, momentarily shocked when Kaien came to him and wrapped his arms around his uncle's upper thighs.

"Thanks, Byakuya-oji-san," the boy murmured. In his eyes, that gleam of hope and gratefulness further cemented Byakuya's resolve.

No turning back.

Byakuya found a smile. "You're welcome, little bird."

Ichigo watched this exchange with interest but didn't comment. "All right, brats. Time to go home. I'm sure you've exhausted Byakuya-oji-san enough for the day."

He ushered them towards the door, which Yuu had so kindly opened for them. As Kaien and Syaoran scampered out ahead of them, expressing interest at the sinking sun, Ichigo paused. He gave Byakuya a faint grin, almost as if he had something on his mind before he turned and followed his children out the door.

Byakuya had given him just the smallest smile in return, but he didn't know if Ichigo caught it or not. He almost didn't realize what he was doing until Yuu closed the door after the departing family, shooting him a look that mirrored Renji's earlier ones.

Byakuya merely shook his head, contemplating both dinner and a bath. Kaien had given him much to think about. He would see Ukitake first thing in the morning.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Some translations:
> 
> shihakusho: the name for the shinigami uniform
> 
> ajigonomi: A child's snack, a mix of crackers and peanut-based items together with tiny fish
> 
> a note about the terms for father: distinguishing tou-chan from tou-san is distinguishing 'daddy' from 'dad'


	2. Of Distance

It came as no surprise that Rukia wasn't home by the time Ichigo arrived with his brood. She had been leaving work later and later recently, nearly overwhelmed with the amount of duties that were necessary for a vice-captain. It didn't bother him as much as it bothered her. She had less and less time to spend with the children, which was putting a strain on everyone.

But Ichigo was certain that it would all return to a semblance of normality given time.

Nami, his housekeeper and a kind old woman with a much cheerier disposition than Kuina, met him at the door, thankfully taking Mikan off his hands. He loved the twins, but one in each hand grew heavy after a while, even given his strength. It was a different kind of weight than wielding Zangetsu for hours on end.

The perks of being a captain were far more than Ichigo ever anticipated, including the servants that came with the position. He never considered himself the type for hired help, but he admitted that he was glad since he was often alone with four children. To be expected to handle his job effectively, take care of his brood, clean the house, and cook would be a bit too much without them.

"Evening, Ichigo-san," Nami greeted as Syaoran and Kaien stepped in past her, both trying to take off their sandals with marginal success.

"Hello, Nami. Has Rukia sent by anything?" Ichigo asked, reaching with one hand to remove Zangetsu from his back, placing his zanpakutou in the stand against the wall. He would retrieve the sword later, moving Zangetsu to his room within easy reach.

She shook her head. "No. I expect she'll be home around the usual time."

"I assumed as much."

He managed to get Kaien's sandals off and pushed them over to the side, helping Syaoran remove hers. She was unsurprisingly defter than her brother.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kaien yawning. "Tired?"

The boy nodded, one fist rubbing at his face. "Renji-oji-san said he would start to spar with me, if I wanted," Kaien responded, obviously fighting with his fatigue in an attempt to stay alert and energetic.

Ichigo straightened, shifting Ryuu in his hold. His youngest son barely stirred.

"Did he now?" the man posed, and Kaien walked alongside him as they began to head into the dining room, Nami trailing after.

Seconds later, it came as no surprise when Syaoran moved to his other side. "Byakuya-oji-san chuckled when Renji-oji-san said that, too," she whispered conspiratorially, causing Ichigo to grin.

Kaien shot his sister an irritated look, as if annoyed that she would interrupt him. "He said if I practice hard enough, I might be as good as him someday. And then, I'll be able to beat you."

It was a long standing and already expressed desire of Kaien's to become a Shinigami just like his parents. He was already making plans to enter the Academy as soon as he matured. And like his father, he was already showing signs of spiritual power, had since his birth. His greatest goal so far was to beat Ichigo in a duel.

They stepped into the dining room as Ichigo chuckled again, inwardly rolling his eyes. Renji was already trying to corrupt his children.

"Did Renji happen to mention that he has never once defeated me?" Ichigo asked, glancing down at his son.

The boy pouted. "No."

Ichigo didn't think so. He reveled only briefly in his victory before remembering that he was taunting his own son and that it was a rather juvenile action.

"Still, Renji's not entirely useless. If he wants to teach you, he can."

Kaien brightened immediately. It never took much make him happy, which Ichigo was glad for. Sometimes, he worried that he didn't have enough time to give enough attention to all of his children. But he would never give any of them up either. Even if the twins had been a very unexpected surprise.

"Dinner is ready, Ichigo-san," Sanji announced as he poked his head out of the kitchen, having heard their entrance.

The younger man, seeming scarcely older than Rukia herself, was a direct contrast to Byakuya's own stern cook. He offered a smile to the children, Kaien already sinking into his usual seat with practiced movements.

"Thanks, Sanji," Ichigo replied, offering a hand to his daughter so that she could lower into her seat. Her cushion was thankfully high enough that she could easily reach the table, though it took some effort to situate her.

Nami helped him strap the twins into the small baby-chairs made especially by Ikkaku, strangely enough, and Ichigo sat between them, already preparing himself for a mess. Thank goodness Syaoran and Kaien could eat on their own, if a bit untidily in the end. He had finally grown adept at feeding both twins at the same time once Rukia's absences had become a little more common. Still, a part of him wished that she were here to help him, especially to keep an eye on their elder two and the level of messiness Kaien was sure to accrue.

He let the babble of Syaoran and Kaien wash over him, interjecting when necessary and appropriate. Sanji brought out the dishes in record time, causing Kaien's eyes to light up at the sight of his favorite food. The boy was so ridiculously easy to please. His eldest dug in with little grace, eagerly shoveling food into his mouth.

Syaoran, on the other hand, ate delicately and with great care. Every movement was unwasted as she made every effort to keep from becoming dirty, and Ichigo inwardly sighed at the sight. She had been spending too much time with Yumichika, his vice-captain encouraging her to do things _beautifully_. Then again, that same elegant grace could also be attributed to Byakuya, who she took after more than either of her parents.

Oh, the amused jokes that had spawned from Renji.

Ichigo fed the twins, not even flitting an eye when they ended up with more food on their bodies than in. Ryuu, unsurprisingly, was neater than his sister. Mikan kept trying to grind the food into the table and move it around with her fingers, as if attempting to paint. It was amusing, if not a bit messy.

Kaien and Syaoran babbled about their day, his son continually expressing his interest in becoming a Shinigami. Syaoran described the picture she had been coloring, while fending off her brother's attempts to steal something off her plate. Ichigo had the feeling that she might end up being slightly more powerful than him in the future. She was certainly able to defeat him whenever Ichigo caught them mock-wrestling, which was few and far between. Syaoran thought fighting beneath her because it was _unbeautiful._

Ichigo was never leaving them alone with Yumichika again.

All in all, they managed to get through dinner unscathed but slightly dirty, and Ichigo was unsuccessfully at wiping away food that was smeared on Ryuunosuke's cheek by the time the table was cleared.

Rukia still had not returned.

He glanced at the clock. It was after dark but still rather early considering. She would probably show up in the next hour or so, when Ukitake-taichou returned to kick her out of the office.

"I think you managed to get more on you than in you," Ichigo commented with a faint exhale, casting his gaze over all his children.

The twins grinned at him as if really understanding his words, pretending complete and total innocence. Somehow, Kaien had gotten rice in his hair. Only Syaoran seemed relatively clean, a few sauce marks on her clothing and fingers. Mikan giggled, one finger dropping down to the table where she smeared it in leftover vegetable mash.

"I need three pairs of hands," their father remarked to himself, wondering how he was going to bathe all four of them, including the twins, at once.

"I can take the twins, Ichigo-san," Nami offered, somehow sensing his predicament as she swirled into the room, snapping a clean towel over one shoulder. "I just finished drawing the baths."

Gratitude didn't even begin to describe the feelings racing through him. "Thank you, Nami," he replied, rising to his feet and raking a hand through his hair. He made a face, realizing that he'd had food on his fingers and had inadvertently just gotten it into his hair as well. The price paid by a father. He would need a bath, too, though his would be much later.

He sighed.

From Aizen-killing badass to Seireitei soccer mom. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

"That would help out a lot."

Brown eyes swept over his other children as Nami cooed to the twins, not minding their mess and scooping them into her arms. They gurgled happily.

"Come on, brats. Time for your bath." He hoped he didn't sound as tired as he felt.

Syaoran obediently slid from her chair, much easier getting up than sitting down. Kaien however, predictably began to whine. He already claimed that he was growing too old for much of everything. Ichigo wondered if he had been that difficult when he was his son's age. Frankly, he couldn't remember that far back.

"Tou-san," Kaien complained, sounding younger than his sister in that moment, "I'm too old to bathe with her."

The stern father glare immediately came to his eyes. "When you can take a bath by yourself than it won't matter. But for now, you'll have to deal with it," he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Kaien squirmed, obviously prepared to pout. "Awwww."

Always ready to outdo her brother, Syaoran sweetly offered, "I can wait, if you want, tou-chan. I'm not too messy."

Ichigo circled the table, nearing both of them. "No," he denied with a shake of his head. "Then, you'll be late for bed. No arguments, Kaien. Not tonight."

That bottom lip immediately came out as his eldest began to pout, sliding sullenly from his seat with obvious displeasure. In that moment, his resemblance to yet another one of his uncles was unimaginable. Though Ichigo doubted Toushirou would appreciate the comparison. Besides, that pout only worked on his mother.

The door to the kitchen opened at this point, Sanji emerging. "I can take him if you'd like, Ichigo-san," the cook offered.

"Really?" Kaien immediately perked, the pout disappearing as if had never been there at all.

"It's no trouble," Sanji assured.

"Spoiled," Ichigo muttered, though he wasn't really irritated; Kaien got his way more often than not. "Fine. But tomorrow, you're bathing when and where I tell you to."

His rebuke fell on deaf ears. Kaien was already sprinting across the floor to Sanji, taking the cook's hand and happily babbling. Watching his son go, Ichigo shook his head and offered his fingers to his daughter.

"Shall we?"

She nodded, taking his hand, and the two of them headed to the master bath. It served Kaien right. He would still have to share the other bathing room with Nami and the twins. And it was much smaller than the one he and Rukia shared.

Luckily, cleaning Syaoran was much easier than it would have been to bathe his son. She was content to help him strip her, and she sat patiently in the water. Kaien would have splashed all over the place, soaking Ichigo's shihakushou simply because it amused him. He wasn't necessarily a bad child, just overly energetic. Ichigo was determined to find him an output for all that energy soon, especially since Kaien wasn't attending school with the other children.

No, he and Byakuya had already had the discussion on _that_ particular matter. Ichigo preferred that they attend the schools in Seireitei. Byakuya believed that they should have private tutors, like himself. Rukia had no opinion on the matter, content to let them duke it out. In the end, Ichigo had conceded. Only because Byakuya insisted on paying for everything and took it upon himself to make certain Kaien was properly learning his lessons.

It was a small concession. Besides, Byakuya meant well.

Still, Kaien's energy only served to remind Ichigo that he needed an outlet, whether it be playing with children close to his age or a hobby. A part of him thought about enrolling his son in a dojo, especially considering his interest in becoming a Shinigami. If they were in Karakura, he would have let Kaien attend Tatsuki's. But they weren't, and he would have to look around for other options if he was seriously going to consider it.

Syaoran was content to quietly talk to him as he washed her hair, the long strands more difficult than Kaien's short locks and the twins' head full of fuzz. But she was proud of her hair and refused to have it cut, having adopted a Byakuya-hair-flip when she was annoyed. Part of him was amused by this and the other part... well, most of him was amused by this.

Between Yumichika and Byakuya, he was pretty sure his oldest daughter was going to be a fine lady, if a bit bossy, by the time she grew up.

Hell, most of Seireitei was doing a pretty good job of helping him raise his kids. They were all excited by the prospect of children, especially since they were rather rare. It had been a long time since any of the captains or vice-captains had children. Excluding Yachiru, of course. Everyone had been ecstatic, and now, his children had a hefty collection of uncles, aunts, and grandparents, most not blood-related. And all of whom spoiled them rotten.

By the time Ichigo pulled Syaoran out of the water and wrapped her in a towel, Rukia still hadn't returned. A part of him wished that he felt more surprised by this fact. Instead, he was more or less resigned. It was strange. He was the captain, and yet, she required far more overtime than he.

"What about you, tou-chan?" Syaoran asked as he carried her into her room, setting her down on his lap.

He ran the towel over her, wiping up the lingering droplets and carefully scrunching it in her hair. "How was my day?" he questioned back.

"Uh-huh."

Ichigo shrugged, musing over what had been a typical day for him. "Lots of paperwork," he said, dropping the towel once he was convinced her hair was dry. A stretch of his arm, and he had snagged her pajamas. "The same boring stuff."

She scrunched up her nose at the thought. His children had witnessed the stacks gracing his desk top.

"Yumi-oji-san didn't have any funny stories to tell?"

He lifted an eyebrow, wondering just what kind of stories his vice-captain had been telling his daughter. "None that he shared with me."

Syaoran was thoughtful as she giggled, slipping her arms into the plain white nemaki as he tied the obi for her. "Ask him to tell you about Yachiru-nee-san and the pony. That one's funny."

' _Pony?_ ' Ichigo wondered, trying to figure out how they'd gotten it into Soul Society.

"I'll do that," he assured Syaoran, shifting position and reaching again for the hairbrush on her nightstand. "Tell me if it hurts."

"Hai."

She sat absolutely still as he carefully ran the brush through her hair, trying not to pull too roughly on her tangles. He was glad for all the practice he had gotten brushing Karin and Yuzu's hair, though he would never admit it to anyone aloud.

"Are you going to read to us tonight?" Syaoran inquired as he ran the brush through a few more times, until it lay perfectly flat against her back.

"Of course," he answered, reaching to set the brush back down. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against the crown of her head. "Why don't you pick out a book while I go take care of your brother and the twins."

She slid from his lap. "Anything I want?" she asked, already trotting over to her bookcase and the rapidly growing collection. Everyone knew that she was becoming an avid reader.

"Anything you want," he confirmed, rising to his feet and ignoring the creak in his back. Ichigo hesitated a moment, watching her purse her lips in intent decision-making before heading towards the door.

"Is okaa-san coming home tonight?"

The query made him pause, and he looked back at her with a smile. "Of course. She'll be here to tuck you in."

Syaoran was clearly pleased by this, giving him back a beaming grin before returning to her perusal. "Okay."

And that was that.

Ichigo left, convinced that his daughter would be fine for the ten minutes or so he would need to take care of the other three. He peeked into Kaien's room as he passed. His son wasn't finished yet, so he continued towards the twins' shared room.

Nami was chuckling as she ran towels over both of them, carefully drying the fuzz on the top of their heads.

"Need a hand?" Ichigo asked, stepping into the room.

She looked over her shoulder at him with a smile. "It was easy enough getting them wet," the housekeeper responded with some amusement.

On closer inspection, it was revealed that Mikan kept grabbing the towel, trying to drag it nearer to examine. His youngest daughter was inquisitive about everything it seemed.

Ichigo chuckled fondly, reaching for Ryuu and grabbing his towel. Wanting to mimic his sister, Ichigo found himself occasionally extracting the folds of the cloth from his son's surprisingly strong grip. Still, getting the twins dried and clothed was inevitably going to be much easier than preparing Kaien for bed.

"She is so much more energetic than her brother," Nami remarked, deftly dodging a playfully kicking foot.

Mikan gurgled happily, eyes sparkling as if she knew she was teasing the older woman.

Ichigo, meanwhile, was setting Ryuu into bed with relative ease. "Rukia is convinced Mikan takes after her grandfather, kami help us all."

He shuddered, thinking of Isshin. His father loved them dearly, but the man was insane. He was terrified that the insanity might have passed to his children.

Nami's arm brushed his as she finally managed to coax a gurgling Mikan in next to her brother. Twin sets of teal eyes looked up at Ichigo adoringly, though Ryuu's were already fluttering tiredly.

"They are beautiful," Nami said with a wistful sigh. "Will you need my help with anything else, Ichigo-san?"

He shook his head, slipping one hand down and watching Mikan curl her fingers around it, squeezing faintly. "Just keep an ear out for them while I save Sanji from Kaien. Syaoran's in her room, too."

His housekeeper nodded, watching as he leaned over and kissed his children on the forehead. It seemed to soothe Mikan's frustrated coos, and she quieted as Ichigo pulled the blankets over them. After a brief moment of wrestling where Ryuu submitted to his sister's feisty demands, they calmed, eventually curling together.

One small fist reached out and popped Ryuu on the shoulder, the boy squinting his face in annoyance. Ichigo chuckled, brushing his fingers over Mikan's forehead.

"Stop teasing your brother," he chastised as if she could truly understand him.

Whether she did or not, Mikan finally settled down and closed her eyes.

Ichigo straightened, the fond look still on his face. "Good night, little ones."

In the background, Nami busied herself with tidying the mess from their bath, gathering up dirtied clothes and towels.

The sound of laughter floated to Ichigo's ears. Kaien's.

"You're still wet, Kaien-kun," Ichigo heard Sanji's voice chastise. "What would your otou-san say?"

He looked up, watching as the two passed by the doorway. Sanji was visibly wrestling with a squirming Kaien, the boy dripping water all over the wooden floor. It would have to be mopped later.

Shaking his head, Ichigo moved to follow. "He would say that his son had better not be misbehaving," the captain inserted as he slipped into the room after them.

He caught sight of a blue-eyed mischievous look as Sanji set Kaien on the ground, still wrapped up in the fluffy towel. The boy knew very well what he was doing and seemed to delight in making things difficult for his father.

"Thanks, Sanji. I know that's outside your realm," Ichigo said, strolling over.

The cook shrugged, the few spots of water on his shirt proving that he hadn't emerged completely unscathed. "Easy enough. I have younger siblings." He patted Kaien on the head. "I'll just clean up the kitchen, and then, I'll be done, Ichigo-san."

Ichigo inclined his head. "See you in the morning," he responded then turned his attention to his son, looking down at the boy. "Did you at least attempt to behave?"

Kaien nodded, his father kneeling beside him and tugging him closer by the towel. "Sanji's funny," the boy began as Ichigo grabbed the cotton and tried to remove the rest of the water. "He was telling me about his littlest brother."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He said we should play together sometime."

Ichigo smiled, liking the idea of that. If anything, it might help disperse some of Kaien's extra energy.

"Maybe. If you're good. Sanji doesn't want to watch someone who misbehaves."

"I'm always good," Kaien grumbled as his father rubbed the towel over his hair, sending it sticking it up in all directions. "I'm dry enough, tou-san."

"Water is still on your back," Ichigo countered with some amusement as he rose to his feet, dropping the towel on his son's head. He moved to the closet to gather Kaien's nemaki, bracing himself for the difficult task of wrestling his son into it.

The pitter-patter of bare feet on polished wood floated to his ears. He looked over his shoulder, only to find that Kaien was gone. A small puddle on the floor was the only indication that the boy had ever been there. That and the dropped towel.

Ichigo sighed, grabbing the nemaki with one hand and slinging it over his shoulders. Every night. Kaien did this nearly every night. He would almost feel sorry for Isshin after enduring this if it weren't for the truth of the matter. Isshin was ten times worse as a father than Ichigo had ever been as a child.

Leaving the room, Ichigo prepared to start the hunt, wondering if he should cheat by following the boy's reiatsu. He passed by Syaoran's room, a quick peek ensuring him that she was fine and patiently waiting.

"He went towards the kitchen, tou-chan," she called as he passed.

And thus, the chase began, following the sounds of his son's giggling as he ran naked through the house. Ichigo was already storing this nightly event for future embarrassment, something to remind a grown-up Kaien of how unruly he had been.

He knew that Nami was watching, had passed her a few times, but she never once offered to help. Her eyes merely sparkled with amusement as she continued cleaning, sometimes gesturing with a look the last direction Kaien had taken.

Ichigo wasn't really angry to be honest. He was tired after working all day, but this had almost become a game between he and his son. Kaien would never do this to Rukia... or Byakuya, for that matter. He seemed to derive great pleasure in making things difficult for his father alone.

With a flit of shunpo and admittedly a bit of cheating, he grabbed Kaien by the midsection just as the boy darted across the hall that led to the front door. The boy squirmed and laughed in his grasp.

"You cheated!" he accused, lightly tapping his father with his fist.

"Parent," Ichigo reminded him.

It was then that the door opened. Rukia stepped through, not even surprised to see father and son wrestling in the hallway, even if said son was naked and still dripping somewhat.

"Welcome home," Ichigo greeted, his smile tired as he scooped up his son and rose to his feet. He stepped forward, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat, accepting the affection, but her gaze cast away from him. "Finally," she agreed with a faint exhale, the dark circles beneath her eyes seemingly emphasized with the light of the hallway.

Stepping forward briefly, Rukia pressed her lips to her son's forehead. He didn't squirm away, which Ichigo noticed with some amusement.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Long day?" Ichigo asked as he joggled Kaien in his arms, one hand running over the wet hair and idly wiping the excess water on his hakama.

Rukia nodded, slipping out of her waraji with fatigued movements. "As always."

"Sanji left something for you," Ichigo informed her as he turned down the hall, preparing to carry Kaien back towards his bedroom.

"I'm sorry," Rukia apologized, setting her waraji off to the side and stepping up beside him. "I didn't mean to be so late."

The captain shrugged. It stopped bothering him after the first week. As they walked, Nami passed by them, tipping her head in farewell.

"The twins are fast asleep, and Syaoran-chan patiently awaits her bedtime story, Ichigo-san," Nami informed him, fondly patting Kaien on the head. "Oyasumi."

Ichigo smiled. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."

Dark brown eyes flickered to Rukia, and Nami dipped her head. "Oyasumi, Kurosaki-fukutaichou."

"Oyasumi."

Nami slipped past them and continued down the corridor, her duties for the evening completed. Rukia watched her exit for all of a minute before drawing up beside her husband, giving her eldest son a fond smile.

"Giving your tou-san trouble again, Kaien?" she asked, reaching out and patting down his wet hair. She, too, was well-used to nightly Kurosaki chases.

Kaien squirmed in Ichigo's arms, making it difficult for his father to carry him. "Nope," he lied good-naturedly, obviously expressing a desire to get down or be transferred to his mother. "Tou-saaaaan."

Ichigo firmly shook his head. "Let okaa-san have her dinner. I'm going to read you and your sister a story."

The boy pouted, giving his father a stare of annoyance that was pure, scowling Ichigo. Rukia grinned despite her fatigue and laughed quietly. Kaien might have been energetic, but he took after his father more than both of them realized.

"Are you sure?" she asked Ichigo, not wanting him to have to do it all himself.

He nodded. "I can do it. Go on before it gets any colder, love."

Visibly relieved, Rukia squeezed his arm warmly and moved the other direction, heading for the kitchen. As she walked, she loosened the straps of the vice-captain's badge on her upper arm. Though they had fallen out of use before the war with Aizen, in an effort to promote unity and keep order, Yamamoto-soutaichou had commanded that they be worn at all times.

In his arms, Kaien shifted, visibly sulking. "I wanted to see okaa-san," he moaned disconsolately.

Despite knowing it would irritate his son, Ichigo pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. "She'll come in to see you before you sleep," he assured.

"It's not the same."

A child's conclusion.

Ichigo chuckled at his son. "Okaa-san's busier than I am. You know that."

Unfortunately, his explanation did not sit well with his son. Kaien sulked the entire time Ichigo managed to get him dressed in his nemaki. Even the prospect of a bedtime story didn't perk him up, which might have partly been due to the fact that his sister had selected the story for the night.

 _Sleeping Beauty_ was far from one of Kaien's favorites, though he did enjoy hearing about the strong and brave prince who fought off the evil witch. Syaoran liked it because it had "beauty" in the title. Yumichika's influence once more.

With Syaoran propped up in his lap, holding the book, and Kaien sitting against his side, Ichigo enjoyed the calm quiet of his evening. He read aloud, occasionally letting Syaoran take over when there were words she had come to recognize. By the time he turned the last page, he realized Rukia was standing in the doorway, listening to him read.

"My turn," she announced, sounding a bit less tired than before. It was likely due to having a full meal rather than whatever she had hastily grabbed at work.

Kaien immediately stopped sulking, brightening considerably. Ichigo guided a sleepy Syaoran off his lap and onto her bed.

"We were waiting for you," the boy thought it fit to announce.

Ichigo bent down and kissed Syaoran and ruffled Kaien's hair, which stuck in all directions now that it had dried. "Goodnight, guys. Sweet dreams," he murmured, rising and heading for the door, and Rukia looked at him as he approached. "I leave them in your hands," Ichigo explained before raking fingers through his hair and grimacing at the food remnants. "I need a bath."

Her eyes flickered to the bits of vegetable mash. "Mikan again?"

"Guilty as charged." He stepped past her as his children chorused a good night to him before turning their eager attention on their mother.

Heh. Traitors.

Ichigo peeked into the twin's room as he went by, glad to find that they were sleeping peacefully as Nami had claimed, and then continued to his own bedroom. Once within, he gratefully stripped off his shihakushou, leaving it in a pile on the floor. The captain's haori was carefully hung on the rack; he had only two, after all. Unlike some rich bastards.

The warmth of steam hit him in the face as he opened the door to the bath, and he was again grateful for Nami. She knew enough to draw a fresh bath for him before she left, perfectly judging the right temperature so that it would still be hot by the time he was able to get to it.

Ichigo settled into the water with a relieved sigh. A minute of peace stole over him, surprising him with its silence and lack of movement. After becoming a father, moments like these became few and far in between. So he relished what relaxation he could get.

He let his mind drift away, refusing to think of the office or the recommendations and evaluations he was required to fill out the next morning. He washed automatically, ducking his head under the water several times, and idly wishing that there was something still left to fight.

It was almost absurdly peaceful now with only the Hollows in the real world to worry about. Not even a rogue Espada had been left behind after the war and the subsequent clean up. A part of him missed those days, fighting so ingrained into him from the moment he had become a Shinigami. He knew he was getting out of practice. The last he had found time to spar must have been a month ago. It was so bad even _Kenpachi_ had stopped asking him. The only sword-work he did was when he went out into the field or when he was helping to train those in his division. He did the bare minimum needed to retain his own skills.

Ichigo was ashamed to admit that a part of him wished for a battle of some kind.

Those thoughts bounced around in his head. When he finally emerged from the water some time later, his fingers were pruny. He toweled off quickly, leaving the cotton on his head, as he dressed in his own nemaki and stepped into the bedroom.

Rukia was already there, clothed in her pale blue nemaki. She usually took her baths in the morning. It was another one of the reasons she woke up earlier than he.

"They already asleep?"

She nodded where she at the small desk, legs tucked beneath her and eyes running over a few stacks of paperwork she had brought home with her. "Kaien seems tired."

Ichigo ran the towel over his hair. "I think he was sparring with Renji a bit today," he responded, wondering how the thirteenth could accrue that much work.

"Aspirations to being a Shinigami already," Rukia replied thoughtfully, a light chuckle escaping her before she returned her full attention back to her papers.

The towel joined the pile of dirty clothes on the floor as he glanced at her stack. "Those two not doing their share again?" he questioned, referring to Kiyone and Sentarou.

Rukia didn't even look up at him. "We're in the process of getting and incorporating new officers, Ichigo. I've mentioned this already." She paused, a faint frown marring her pretty features as the brush continued to swipe over the parchment. "I have to pick up the slack."

Brown eyes watched her for a moment before Ichigo lowered himself into the seat next to her, leaning in with the intention of kissing her on the neck. She ever-so-subtly leaned away, however, and he stopped in his tracks. The moment stretched into eternity as Ichigo pulled back and abruptly grabbed half the stack of papers.

She looked up, startled. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked as he pulled out a spare brush and dipped it into the inkwell. He bent his head and began to work.

Silence descended, the only sound that of papers rustling and brushes sweeping over them. They didn't speak. Whether it was awkward or not wasn't Ichigo's concern. It was the distance that was so obvious. They were near enough that their elbows occasionally brushed, but it couldn't have felt any farther part. He would have reached through their soul-bond, but it was just as distant as they were. Tired and muted, if still there.

It was both frustrating and saddening.

The minutes ticked by, the clock in the hall a constant and steady beat to his ears.

A cry of displeasure disturbed the uneasy quiet, one of the twins waking up and seeking out attention from either parent. Rukia set down her brush, fully intending to rise, but she wasn't quick enough. Ichigo was already on his feet, moving from the room and adjusting his clothing from where it had shifted.

Rukia listened to the sounds of her husband moving through the house, making his way to the twins' room. She couldn't make out the words, but she heard the timber of his voice, speaking softly. It was likely Mikan he was soothing. Ryuunosuke rarely cried.

The vice-captain shook her head and finished the last of her work. Thanks to Ichigo, she had only a few pages left, and they were completed in a matter of minutes. Rising from her desk, she flipped off the main light, preparing for bed. It was early, far earlier than she usually laid down, but the thought of staying up was not appealing either. Her body was tired; her mind was tired. Her heart was tired.

Sometime later, she felt Ichigo return to the room. He extinguished the light she had left on for him, his movements quiet with the intent not to disturb her. He couldn't have known that she was pretending to be asleep, just listening to the sound of him.

The futon dipped briefly as he crawled into bed beside her, hesitating before remaining on his side. They used to curl rather close together, sharing each other's warm. The very thought caused something to clench inside her, along with the sobering truth.

Now, they fell asleep in silence.

In the morning, when Ichigo woke, Rukia had already left for work.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translator's notes:
> 
> nemaki: a light cotton kimono for sleeping
> 
> waraji: the sandals the shinigami wear


	3. Perceptions

yakuya found himself sitting in front of his senpai, vaguely reminded of old times as Jyuushiro poured tea for the both of them. It was a bright and cheery morning, birds chirping and the like, which completely belied the tension running through his body. He was here to ask his fellow captain a rather difficult question, and most of him didn't even know where to begin. The fact that Rukia was just beyond the door didn't make it any easier.

"Brings back old memories, hmm," Jyuushiro murmured as if he had read his kouhai's mind, steam curling up from the elegant tea set that Byakuya still remembered from all those years ago. It had aged rather gracefully, much like its owner.

The younger captain nodded in agreement, reaching for his cup and inhaling the delicate aroma. It was vaguely soothing, he noticed, before looking pointedly around.

"It is rather quiet in here."

"For once, you mean?" Ukitake responded with an easy grin, reaching up and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "Shunsui is kami only knows where, thank goodness. Last I heard, he was hiding from his fukutaichou; he knows better than to seek refuge with me."

Byakuya's lips twitched into a smile. "And Kira-san?"

"Busy with his own squad, I imagine," his senpai said with a goofy, almost love-struck grin.

It was so amusing to the widower.

The relationship between the two captains, including recently appointed Kira Izuru to the head of the third division, was no secret to those in Seireitei. Unsurprisingly, the two were a good match. And honestly, Byakuya had never seen Ukitake this happy and alive before, especially considering the sadness surrounding his former vice-captain's death. He was glad for the both of them.

Jyuushiro continued, attracting Byakuya's attention with a faint chuckle. "And lucky for both of us, I also sent Kiyone and Sentarou on a little errand. Other than Rukia, we've the office to ourselves."

Byakuya tipped his head. "The quiet is relaxing."

"I agree." Jyuushiro paused, though it wasn't an uneasy one and redirected the casual conversation. "It's especially calm since much of my paperwork is mysteriously being done by someone outside of the thirteenth again."

A frown found its way to Byakuya's lips before he could fully put an end to it. "Ichigo again?" he mused aloud, well aware of that particular situation.

Jyuushiro inclined his head, sipping at his tea. "I've discussed this with him before, and I know you have as well, but..." he trailed off, leaving his statement open-ended. It went unsaid that he was requesting Byakuya do something about it.

"Perhaps he merely needs to be reminded," the Kuchiki heir suggested, shifting in his seat as he was reminded of the purpose of his own visit. "Or it will clear on its own when your division finally settles."

"Hmm. You make a valid point." A slim hand reached out for the tea platter, selecting a small cookie as Jyuushiro nibbled on it. "An increase in paperwork is not unexpected when considering the reshuffling of our positions, even if they are lower seats."

Byakuya conceded his point, "Yamamoto-soutaichou should have probably begun with another division. The thirteenth is still recovering."

A faintly bemused smile quirked Jyuushiro's lips. "I leave it up to you to tell him that."

"Then again," Byakuya said with almost a teasing note, "I'm certain this is nothing your division cannot handle."

"Quite true."

A lull entered the conversation, now with a hint of discomfort. It was becoming plainly obvious to Jyuushiro that the visit had not been just a social call. Rarely could Kuchiki Byakuya be termed "social" unless, strangely enough, it involved his brother-in-law or nieces and nephews.

Setting down his cup, fingers curling around the warmth permeating through the thick material, Jyuushiro eyed his companion. "You have something on your mind, Byakuya. Care to share?"

Byakuya realized that he should just go ahead and get to the point. Ukitake obviously wasn't fooled by his attempt to stave off the unsettling conversation, ready to move things along.

He took a deep breath. "A matter of some importance has come to my attention," he said, aware that his tone was both stiff and formal. "And I am... unsure how to address it."

Jyuushiro blinked. "Oh?" It was a quiet request for elaboration.

The younger captain was about to shift in his seat when he realized that he was _fidgeting_ and abruptly stilled the motion. "It is something that I cannot ignore nor can I directly intervene as the matter is rather delicate."

Curiosity abounded within Jyuushiro before he could stop it, despite the somber tone to Byakuya's voice. "In your division then?" He sat up straighter.

"In another's," Byakuya countered, lifting his tea to his lips. He sipped at the green liquid, the soothing taste of chamomile and honey sliding down his throat.

Jyuushiro spent several long moments mulling this over internally. "In another division," he murmured before finally raising his dark eyes to his companion, softness turning to concerned steel. "What exactly is the problem?"

Bracing himself, Byakuya searched for the right words, the right way to formulate an answer. Unfortunately, he had never been taught the appropriate methods of describing the possibility of abuse to a fellow captain. Simply put, being blunt was perhaps the only choice he had.

"It is between a husband and his wife," he replied slowly, lowering his cup to the table, having lost a taste for the tea. "And complaints of an altercation."

"Altercation?" Jyuushiro repeated with some surprise, turning the word over in his head. "Abuse?"

Byakuya jerkily nodded, waiting for his senpai to come to his own conclusions.

The older man sucked in a lip as he pondered the solution, brow furrowing. "The best course of action would be to talk this over with their captain," Jyuushiro suggested slowly, recalling all he knew of the Gotei 13 rules and guidelines.

Unable to respond, Byakuya merely looked at Ukitake, grey eyes impassive.

It took a moment, Jyuushiro's still youthful face pinched with thought before understanding dawned bright and early. "Ah… here?" he stated, more to himself than Byakuya. His voice suddenly went hard. "In the thirteenth?"

Byakuya inclined his head, wishing he hadn't set down his cup. It would have been enough to hide the subtle firming of his mouth, the tightening of the skin around his eyes. He didn't want Jyuushiro to know just how long he had lain awake last night, locked in a mind's battle over what to do and how to do it.

Torn himself, Ukitake mulled inwardly, absentmindedly chewing on his lip. It took several long seconds before he came to a decision, rising elegantly to his feet and moving to the door. He slid open the panel about half a foot.

"Rukia, come here a moment," he called out, leaving the door open as he turned and pattered back to his seat.

There was a slight clatter as Rukia shifted away from her desk and stood, approaching his office. "Ukitake-taichou?"

He gestured her inside. "Close the door behind you, please. Privacy is important for what I would like you to hear."

Her gaze flickered between the two captains, Byakuya carefully focusing on pouring the second cup of tea he wasn't going to drink. Her hesitancy was only noticed by her brother before she inclined her head and slipped into the room. The door barely made a noise as she pulled it shut and moved to sit with them at the table.

Folding her hands in her lap, Rukia gave Ukitake her full attention.

"There's been a complaint to our division of a husband striking his wife," Jyuushiro explained, settling comfortably behind the table.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" Rukia's attention flickered to Byakuya, assuming that it was he who had brought the news to her captain's attention. "Nii-sama, who is it?"

"I do not wish to name names. I do not have any proof. The accusation alone could ruin them." He hesitated, shifting in his seat and wrapping his fingers around his cup. He wouldn't drink the tea, but he was grateful for the warmth on suddenly icy hands.

"There are also children involved," Byakuya added rather reluctantly.

Jyuushiro was completely stunned. "A noble family then?" he asked.

It was a valid question. There were few in Seireitei capable of having children, limited mostly to the nobles or those with significant reiatsu. It clearly constricted the area of identification that the thirteenth-division captain would have to work with.

"It is possible," Byakuya conceded, part of him wishing that he didn't have to be the one to force this issue into the light from where it had been seething quietly beneath the surface for so many years. "But as I said, I cannot name them. I merely ask that you take a closer look at your subordinates." He couldn't stop himself from flicking his eyes towards Rukia, however briefly. "Certain behavior should not be allowed, no matter who is involved."

He received no satisfaction from the paling of her face to an almost sickly color. Realization was beginning to dawn, despite her captain's numerous misunderstandings and assumptions. From the corner of his vision, he saw that her hands were starting to clench and unclench, body trembling though he wasn't entirely certain it was with concern.

The hint of anger washing through her reiatsu sent her brother abruptly to his feet. "I apologize for bringing such troubling news," Byakuya began, his quiet words attracting Jyuushiro's attention.

The older man shook his head, clearly distracted in trying to discern the perpetrator within his squad. "No, I am glad to learn of it now as opposed to later, when it is much too late for anything to be done. Thank you, Byakuya."

The Kuchiki heir inclined his head, taking the opportunity to excuse himself. Byakuya didn't spare his sister another glance as he exited, leaving Rukia and Ukitake alone in the captain's office.

He would leave the rest to fate.

* * *

The buzz of conversation was relatively quiet, not rising loud enough to disturb his captain, who was closeted in his office. Yumichika wasn't certain if Ichigo was actually doing any work but elected to leave the man alone, nonetheless. This morning, when Ichigo had arrived, he had seemed rather weary and in desperate need of a good night's sleep. After seeing the state of their captain, the division had unanimously decided to behave and make it an easy day.

So far, so good.

Not that Yumichika could have expected their visitors. Matsumoto was no surprise. She could often be found in the fifth division, hiding from Hitsugaya-taichou on the pretense of doing real work. Sentarou and Kiyone, however, were an annoyance Yumichika wasn't in the mood to tolerate. Yet, he hadn't been able to shoo them away. They were like a bad smell, lingering long after the windows had been opened.

In his mind, Yumichika was thoroughly cursing Ukitake-taichou for sending them over. He still hadn't been able to discern why they hadn't left yet. They had brought and deposited the paperwork but lingered with their unwanted presence. A part of him was relieved that he was forced to enjoy the third-seats rather than see their vice-captain again. He didn't like the way Ichigo acted after one of _her_ visits.

Lounging on the floor in front of him, fully reclining and appearing as if she had no inclination to ever return to work, Matsumoto's drawl attracted his attention.

"They say that they want a kid from Rukongai," she explained, leaning closer to him and giving everyone a view of her impressive, jiggling assets. "And probably with reiatsu. You already know that the ones with high levels have problems finding enough to eat sometimes."

Yumichika raised an eyebrow, boredly admiring his fingernails. They were in need of a trim. Hmm, he would have to take care of that tonight.

"That's sweet," he murmured, thinking of Ukitake-taichou and Kira-taichou. "How soon did they say?"

"They haven't mentioned," Kiyone inserted with a grin, never one to be left out.

Yumichika barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance as the woman shoved Sentarou out of the way, trying to cover his mouth with her fingers. Their arguments hadn't stopped, even after Rukia's appointment.

Matsumoto sighed, seemingly ignoring the third-seats as well. "Sweet indeed," she burbled, blindly groping for her "hidden" sake jug. "But not as cute as my kawaii taichou and his sweetheart."

Her lips curled into an amused grin at the thought of draconic Hitsugaya and his relationship with the other scowling Kurosaki. There was something incredibly gravitating about that family, it seemed, even if Karin was more like her brother than should be strictly possible.

"Marriage on the horizon, is it?" Yumichika posed, glancing briefly at the paperwork he was supposed to be doing before concentrating instead on the gossip.

It, after all, changed daily. The numerous sheets of documentation he had to read and sign did not.

Matsumoto hummed excitedly as she took a deep swig of her jug. "Eventually. I can't wait." Girlish excitement took over her features as she pursed her lips, already imagining the ceremony. And the reception to follow.

This time, Yumichika did roll his eyes. "You and Kyouraku-taichou." He sighed dramatically. "Only interested in the free booze."

The other vice-captain gave a fake pout. "Mah. Not so!" Matsumoto shook a finger at him, but the sulking only lasted as long as it took for her to giggle and take another swig. One finger traced the desk in front of him in a manner that was probably seductive for anyone other than Yumichika.

"Did ya hear, though?" she put in casually. "Akon-taichou's still looking for a fukutaichou."

"I don't blame him," Yumichika responded, thinking of the twelfth-division captain. Even after six years, that man was perfectly content without a second. "After the unfortunate--"

"--and gruesome--" Matsumoto inserted, her face drawing into a disgusted look as she was attacked by a full body shudder that made other assets jiggle.

"--and gruesome," Yumichika amended, " _demise_ of that freak Kurotsuchi, I would be wary of choosing one as well." He paused to sigh, setting his chin in his palm as he balanced his elbow on his desk. "Who would have guessed that lovely Nemu had it in her?"

A hand clamped over Kiyone's mouth, Sentarou shoving his way into the conversation. "She's sharing a room with that Hinamori girl, you know. Two crazies packed together."

This was news to Yumichika. "And such a pretty girl, too," he commented wistfully. "It seems such a waste. Even if she is utterly insane."

If anyone else had plans to put in their two yen, Yumichika never found out. The main door to the division office opened in that moment without so much as an announcement. The fifth-division vice-captain straightened in his chair, fully prepared to lash out with a reprimand for the interruption when he laid eyes on the newcomer.

Kurosaki-fukutaichou stood in the doorway, her reiatsu simmering around her and yet very tightly controlled. The look on her face was restrained, but anger tightened the corners of her eyes, lips pinched with displeasure. At the sight of their superior, Sentarou and Kiyone jumped, nearly running into each other in an attempt to make it seem as if they were doing something worthwhile and not arguing or gossiping.

While Matsumoto blinked in surprise, Yumichika found himself turning to ice at the sight of his captain's wife. "Good afternoon, Kurosaki-fukutaichou," he greeted coolly but with all the necessary politeness as she invited herself into the office, her eyes set on Ichigo's closed door. "Kurosaki-taichou is--"

He was ignored, as if she hadn't even deigned to register his presence, throwing the door to his captain's office open with a slam and storming inside. It was promptly swept closed behind her, bouncing back from the wall with the sheer strength of her shove and leaving an evident gap that allowed them to see within. The sound echoed through the main office as the walls shook and the cup of brushes on Yumichika's desk rattled, a few of his decorations tumbling to the floor.

Yumichika was stunned, lavender eyes widening. His gaze fell to the opened door, and he was in the midst of rising to his feet to protect his captain's privacy when the echoed sound struck his hearing.

_Slap!_

"I can't believe you!"

Rukia's furious indignation immediately followed.

Jaw nearly dropping, though he knew by now he shouldn't be surprised anymore, Yumichika hurried from his seat. He placed himself between the others and the door. Even if they could hear, he refused to allow them to bear visible witness. He couldn't stop himself from glancing in, however, catching sight of Rukia with her hand still raised and his captain returning her angered look. A mark slowly reddened on his cheek.

"You went running to my brother?" she demanded, words coming out clipped and fierce. "How stupid can you get?"

It wasn't possible for the strike to hurt that much. Considering Ichigo's reiatsu levels and her physical strength, the most her slap would have done was redden his face. And already, that outward mark was beginning to fade. It could not have been that painful.

Yumichika also knew that it wasn't so much the physical pain that was the issue. It was the mental realization, the acceptance. The fact that she had struck him, had done it before and was going to do it again in the future was what truly hurt. However, his captain simply stood there, still impossibly calm.

He had risen to his feet, likely when she entered, and was now moving around the desk. "What are you talking about?" he asked, sounding unnaturally composed. His tone had lowered, obviously hoping she would quiet as well.

An indignant fury was welling in Yumichika, and he cursed Yamamoto-soutaichou under his breath, even as he understood the old man's reasoning. A part of him wished that he could see her face and the emotions there. Unfortunately, he could only see Ichigo's expression and what his captain had given up trying to hide.

"I can't believe you told him," Rukia hissed, voice low and dangerous as she accused him. "And don't deny it. You had to!"

Her husband's volume lowered marginally once more. "I haven't told Byakuya anything," he insisted, still very much confused. "What do you think I've told him?"

Her hands balled into fists at her side. Yumichika tensed, half of him wanting to storm in and put an end to it. But he also knew his captain would never stand for that.

"You know! He came to Ukitake-taichou's office today."

Ichigo shook his head. "The only thing I've mentioned is how busy you were because he asked. That's nothing unusual."

True to Yumichika's expectations her hand shot upwards and her palm shoved into his chest. "Don't give me that bullshit," she snarled as he absorbed the blow. "I'm not an idiot."

Rather than retaliate, Ichigo took a step backwards, increasing the space between them. "I didn't say you were." He hadn't even raised his voice yet.

From his position, Yumichika could see the back of Rukia's shoulders tense before she grasped for the first thing within her reach. It just happened to be the Ichigo's stamp, which she promptly chucked at her husband. Practiced movement made it all too easy for him to dodge as it hit the wall behind him with a loud snap, ink splattering.

"Don't patronize me."

That was the final straw. Yumichika was fully prepared to throw Ichigo's pride to the wind and interrupt, pretending in the end that it had been an accident. He couldn't keep watching that look in his normally strong captain's eyes. Love was such a dangerous thing.

He only managed one step forward when a slim hand clamped firmly on his shoulder, stopping him. As if knowing what he planned.

"That's business we shouldn't interfere in," Matsumoto warned from behind him.

Rage was burning its way through him as he pinched his lips. "I know that," Yumichika huffed, falling silent as he clamped down the rest of his thoughts.

He knew that damn well, but he was also tired of witnessing it. The first two times had been enough. He could still remember clearly the first instance. Though he had forgotten what exactly had started the argument, he knew he would never forget the sound of her raised voice or the sight of her hand striking her husband.

Yumichika chanced a glance behind him, catching Kiyone and Sentarou hastily dropping their eyes. Matsumoto was shocked, yet still managing to maintain a hold on her composure. Slender fingers were tapping at her sake jug, however, as if only barely able to rein in the urge to drink.

There was another, more muffled crash, and Yumichika hurriedly returned his attention to the inner sanctum of the office. Obviously, he had missed a vital part of the conversation.

"Why would Byakuya go to Jyuushiro?" Ichigo was in the midst of demanding, his tenuous hold on patience beginning to run thin. "I don't understand what the issue is!"

Rukia had shifted positions, enough that Yumichika could see her in profile. Anger written so fiercely across her features that it was as if she had become a demon. Her hand shot through the air, palm slapping Ichigo violently across the face. The sound that echoed was far louder than even the first strike.

His captain's head turned to the side, a smart move that would absorb the blow and deflect much of the force. But Ichigo didn't say anything, didn't even speak. His hands still remained lax against his side, not even displaying an attempt to hold himself back.

His wife's body shuddered with fury as she breathed heavily, shoulders heaving. "You know damn well," Rukia spat. "Our business is our business!"

She whirled on her feet, storming towards the door. Yumichika barely moved out of the way before she had slammed it open and pushed through the gathered crowd. She didn't seem to notice those around her or even her third-seats presence as she exited in a flurry of angered reiatsu.

Behind her, the door to Ichigo's office was left halfway open, no longer hiding anything.

An uncomfortable silence descended as no one moved, no one daring to even speak. Yumichika forced himself to a semblance of control, his lips a thin line. He dared a look towards his captain, catching sight of Ichigo with his back to the door. It took an eye that was looking for it to tell that the man was visibly shaking.

Yumichika reached forward and ever so quietly, slid the door shut, the wood barely making a sound. All that was left was to get rid of the unwanted witnesses. He only wished that Matsumoto had not been present. Her mouth was the largest in all of Seireitei. He feared that the time for keeping the fifth division's closely guarded secret was already spent.

Matsumoto sucked in a breath, raking a hand through her lustrous hair. "What in Hueco Mundo was that about?" she asked, voice unusually soft, as though afraid to break the sudden silence.

It was surprising… this example of her restraint.

Shaking his head, Yumichika refused to move from his position in front of the door. "None of our business," he responded crisply and flitted his fingers at her. "Come on. I've work to do."

She held her ground. "Yumi, I know you know something," Matsumoto attempted to wheedle, sensing that she had stumbled upon prime fuel for her wagging tongue.

Purple eyes hardened in determination. "Nothing at all," the other vice-captain stated firmly, tone brooking no argument.

Pouting, Matsumoto flipped her hair over one shoulder. "If you say so." She turned and scooped up her papers with one hand, flitting towards the exit. "But don't think I won't pester you later."

"I'm sure you will," he replied under his breath, though she was already long gone, and turned to focus his attention on the other two lingerers. "Your captain is waiting for you as well."

He affixed both Sentarou and Kiyone with his carefully perfected look of command that had successfully established his role in the fifth-division. Not to mention intimidating countless members of the eleventh long before that.

They snapped to attention, saluting him like a pair of idiotic twin soldiers. "Yes, Ayasegawa-fukutaichou!" they parroted, scurrying out after Matsumoto and leaving the office feeling marginally fresher.

Once they were absent, Yumichika forced himself to take several deep and steadying breaths, trying to cleanse away the fury that was still threading through him. It wasn't so much that he had always disliked Kurosaki Rukia. She was, in fact, exactly the type of woman he liked. Strong and beautiful, sharp-tongued and amusing.

But once Yumichika had been made vice-captain, his loyalties ran entirely with Ichigo and not unsurprisingly. He had thought Ichigo and Rukia a good match but only until he had been forced to bear witness to the truth beneath their seemingly perfect marriage. Like the rest of the fifth, it had been kept a secret, not wanting to tarnish and ruin their captain's dignity.

He cast his eyes over the room, gaze finally settling on the paperwork that Kiyone and Sentarou had brought over. Half of it was supposed to go to Ichigo, though he hadn't brought it to his captain yet. He had been waiting until the two third-seats left. It was the perfect excuse he needed to check up on his captain without seemingly doing so.

Gathering up the documents, he approached the door and rapped lightly with a knuckle to announce his presence. "Ichigo-kun?" he ventured, knowing that his captain had long ago dispensed with things that were overly formal.

"Yeah?"

Yumichika slid open the door slowly, stepping inside. Ichigo had finally moved back to his desk and was in the process of lowering himself down.

"Is that the new paperwork?" Ichigo questioned, eyes flickering to the stacks in Yumichika's arms as he organized items on his desk, attempting to seem normal.

The reddening that was slowly fading from his captain's face made Yumichika want to bristle all over again. "Yes," he answered, pushing all the fury down and gliding over to deposit the new stack.

Ichigo exhaled and picked up his brush, giving Yumichika a smile that was too hesitant to be real. "If I'd known being a captain was this much paperwork, I might have reconsidered, ne?"

The rage burned colder.

Yumichika knew that smile, had seen it before in the higher districts of Rukongai. On the faces of women whose husbands or boyfriends or even customers of the day had beaten them. Those who had taken the abuse without a sound and never said a word because they were afraid there would be worse consequences, worse things would happen to them. Only, Yumichika knew it wasn't fear that held his captain's tongue. It was love, something perhaps even more worrisome.

Ichigo would never strike Rukia; it wasn't in him to do so, no matter how many times she hit him. He couldn't bring himself to lift a hand against the woman he loved, and truly he still did, even though their relationship was slowly sliding to an end. Yumichika wondered if they even shared a reiryoku bond anymore or if it had dissolved completely.

"You have a point," Yumichika conceded, realizing that an uncomfortable amount of time had passed between the last words spoken. He redirected tentatively, "Are you alright, Ichigo-kun?"

The other man blinked for a moment, all of the sorrow visible in brown eyes before it was abruptly gone, shuttered behind a careful masquerade. "Of course, Yumichika. Thanks for the papers."

Hide it behind a mask. Yumichika had seen it far too many times in his life. Though he never expected to ever find it in the expression of his perpetually honest captain.

"You're welcome." He hesitated, wincing inwardly. "Kiyone and Sentarou actually brought it. And Matsumoto was here as well. I apologize if we were too noisy for you."

"I honestly didn't even notice," Ichigo replied, tugging the documents closer to him and running his gaze over the words. But he wasn't really seeing them, fingers absently holding a brush with no ink on it.

A quiet fell, Yumichika watching his captain closely. He knew he should have dismissed himself already, but he lingered, unwilling to leave just yet.

After a moment, Ichigo looked up at him. "I think that I'll be busy for a while. If you want, you can leave early today."

It was Friday, after all. Not that it meant much to Soul Society, which was busy round the clock and not just on the weekdays. But Yumichika knew he wasn't going to leave his captain alone in an empty office.

"No," he denied, offering his best smile. "They brought me a stack just as big as yours."

"Well, the offer stands," Ichigo responded, returning his gaze to the trivial work, most of which just needed a signature or two.

"And thank you for it." Yumichika paused. "I could bring in some tea, if you want."

Ichigo shook his head, already pulling inwards "No, but thanks."

He watched his captain for another long moment, wishing he was capable of doing something more. "Just call if you need anything," Yumichika announced, trying for a bright cheeriness that he didn't feel before leaving the room.

His eyes hadn't failed to notice the two broken items on the floor. One was a broken ink well, black liquid seeping onto the wooden floor.

* * *

The constant noise of the tip of his brush against the desk top was only a dim sound in the background. Jyuushiro wasn't even really paying attention to his own behavior, mulling over what Byakuya had revealed to him. He still had no idea about identity of those involved and had half a mind to visit his kouhai to demand more of an explanation.

The silence within his division was not helping matters. Rukia had already expressed a need to be off early, and he had conceded, knowing she hadn't been spending nearly enough time with her children. The idea of an altercation with one of her subordinates must have hit her hard. But now that she was absent, there was no one in his office.

The quiet was almost startling.

Suddenly, as if to mock him for enjoying the peace, he heard the noises of Kiyone and Sentarou's return. They tumbled into his outer office with all the grace of a hoard of Hollows, loudly arguing. Their voices were mingling in their volume, and he couldn't make any sense of it. So Ukitake pushed the noise to the back of his mind, returning to his contemplations, but he couldn't have expected his third-seats to come bursting into his office without any sort of announcement.

In tandem, they turned and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Ukitake-taichou, there's something we have to tell you!" the two announced in perfect unison, throwing themselves to the floor in front of his desk and into a seating position.

Jyuushiro blinked, a bit perturbed by their lack of propriety, as his brush froze mid-tap. "Is it really that important?" he questioned, remembering similar incidents where they had interrupted his work in order to tell him something rather inane and trivial.

He had not been pleased.

Two heads nodded jerkily in arrant harmony as they sat straight, fingers grasping their knees. They were nearly trembling with the effort of holding back their news.

The captain sighed and rubbed fingers across his forehead. "Very well. Continue." Jyuushiro quickly amended, "Slowly and one at a time." He watched as Kiyone and Sentarou exchanged glances, obviously unsure where to begin.

"You go first," Sentarou offered graciously for the first time ever. At least, to Jyuushiro's witnessing.

Kiyone shook her head. "No. You go first," she urged.

It was as if someone had turned down the volume. Their voices went hushed, carrying a faint tremble of nervousness.

Concern began to well within Jyuushiro. Rarely had he seen his third-seats like this, quiet and almost twitchy. Usually, they were loud and boisterous, filling the room with eager sound. This uneasiness was disturbing.

"Is something wrong?" the captain urged, his eyes flickering between them.

They nodded again, still silent.

"And what is it?" he prompted, wondering if it was something he had needed to know ten minutes ago. Sometimes, they had no concept of the term "urgent."

"We were at the fifth division--" Kiyone began, the words almost exploding out of her as if she couldn't hold back anymore.

"--when Kurosaki-fukutaichou showed up," Sentarou finished for her.

Jyuushiro inclined his head, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ear. "She did say she had to go home early. That is not unexpected."

"But she was mad," Sentarou countered.

Kiyone firmly confirmed, "Very mad."

The captain mulled over this information. Had Rukia been _that_ upset by Byakuya's visit? Had she some childhood trauma that he hadn't known of? Perhaps that had been the reason behind her need to return home early.

"And she went into his office!" Kiyone blurted out, starting forward before rocking back on her heels. Clearly, she couldn't hold back any longer.

What came next was a blur of words, hastily pouring from their mouths so quickly that he could barely follow.

"Only the door didn't shut all the way, and it's not our fault."

"We didn't mean to hear, but we couldn't help it. They were being so _loud_."

He soon lost the ability to tell one voice from the other as he tried to absorb the information that they were attempting to explain in a vaguely coherent fashion.

"And Matsumoto-fukutaichou and Ayasegawa-fukutaichou were there, too. They were so shocked."

"We heard a crash. And we just wanted to know what was going on."

"But Ayasegawa-fukutaichou was guarding the door, but he couldn't stop us from hearing."

Jyuushiro felt something grow cold in his belly, turning an uncomfortable icy temperature. Byakuya's earlier words were bouncing around in his skull, reminding him of certain key points.

No mention of names. The accusation would ruin them. Children. His vice-captain's odd behavior.

He felt as if he were coming to a very painful conclusion that he never would have imagined, even in his darkest hours.

The captain quickly cleared his throat, interrupting them. "Are you trying to tell me that you saw Ichigo-kun and his wife having a fight?" he demanded, not wanting to believe for a single second that Ichigo would ever _hit_ Rukia.

His third-seats shifted uneasily, exchanging an uncertain look.

"We didn't exactly _see_ it," Sentarou admitted.

"We only heard," Kiyone verified, her fingers clenching tightly to her knees. "She was yelling at him, so it was hard not to."

Sentarou agreed, adding, "And she was screaming about him telling Kuchiki-taichou something."

"Then, we heard her hit him."

In that instant, Jyuushiro's thoughts abruptly derailed, crashing to the ground with little grace and going up in a puff of roiling grey smoke and flame. He wasn't even sure he could properly register that bit of information.

He never truly got the chance.

For the second time that day, the door to his office abruptly slammed open, nearly cracking as it flew into its port. Shunsui stood there, completely filling the doorway. His hat was askew, pink haori hanging from only one shoulder, and he was barefoot, having apparently forgotten his sandals. Jyuushiro had been so shocked he hadn't even sensed his best friend coming.

" _Jyuu-chan!_ " Shunsui heaved as if he had been running a marathon, something a lot like anger alighting in his features. "You have to hear this."

From the look on his face, Jyuushiro could only assume that the other captain had used shunpo the entire distance. He actually appeared furious, and Jyuushiro knew for a fact that Shunsui was normally unflappable, calm in the face of everything.

His face met his palm, Jyuushiro having a pretty good idea of why his friend was here. "And you said Matsumoto-fukutaichou had been there?" he asked, eying Kiyone and Sentarou.

They both gave him a meek shrug.

Jyuushiro sighed, immediately connecting the dots. From Matsumoto to Nanao-san to Shunsui. News certainly traveled fast, something to be expected when it involved a rumor of this magnitude.

He wasn't even certain he could absorb all of it. Most of the information was still spinning around in his brain, jerkily dancing a tango with his ability to rationalize.

Rukia? Abusing Ichigo?

It seemed too wild to be true, too surreal. It was as if someone was playing a very cruel joke that in no way was funny. Yet, with Byakuya's visit and then this, Jyuushiro could only conclude that he had somehow missed an important happening.

It was time for damage control.

He affixed his third-seats with his most serious expression, one that brooked no argument. "You are to speak of this to no one," he warned with a tone he rarely utilized. "Am I clear?"

They nodded, though he noticed that Kiyone seemed faintly shifty-eyed. In any case, he knew that they would not be telling another soul.

"Dismissed."

The two immediately scrambled from their seats, practically careening out of his office in nearly the same manner they had arrived. Once they were gone, Jyuushiro gestured to the space they had abandoned.

"What're we going to do about this, Jyuu-chan?" Shunsui asked as he perched on his friend's desk, paying no attention to his rumpled state. "Knowing Rangiku, she's already told half the damn city."

And for once in his life, Ukitake Jyuushiro was at a loss. He simply didn't know what to do.

* * *


	4. Of Betrayal

Toushirou fixed his vice-captain with a stare cold enough to rime his walls in a light coating of frost before returning his attention to the bookshelf. "Matsumoto, your talent for telling stories is the best I've ever heard, but this is over the top, even for you."

"You honestly think I'd lie about this, taichou?" she demanded, sounding frustrated as she plopped down in her usual position, splayed over the couch.

He paused in his perusal to glance briefly over his shoulder. "You mean to tell me that Rukia is abusing Kurosaki? And expect me to believe it?" he asked, promptly continuing to search for a particular scroll. He needed to see that list as soon as possible.

Matsumoto crossed her arms under her assets, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a firm toss of her head. "Yes. I was there. I saw it." She paused, face darkening with the memory. "And I heard it, too."

Grudgingly, Toushirou was beginning to believe her. He abandoned his search, realizing he wasn't going to get any work done, and moved back to his desk.

"Are you sure you saw what you _think_ you saw?"

Matsumoto snorted. "You mean, did I imagine Rukia's hand accidentally running into his face? Twice?"

Toushirou felt a migraine coming on, not unusual when any conversation involved his vice-captain. Matsumoto wasn't lying; this wasn't her idea of an unfunny joke. He exhaled harshly, visions of a ballistic Karin in his head as he thought of having to explain to his girlfriend just what was going on. She was rather protective of her brother, a Kurosaki trait he had come to learn.

"It was likely a one-time incident," he suggested, lowering himself back into his seat and watching his vice-captain's response.

She rolled her eyes, a frown pulling across her lips. Matsumoto should have known that her captain wouldn't be able to connect the dots in such a negative fashion. He had grown up in the first district of Rukongai, after all. He didn't know what it was like in the higher ones.

"You wouldn't understand, taichou," she huffed, though her voice had quieted as she shifted her eyes away.

Those aquamarine irises regarded her strangely. "Understand what?"

"What it's like," Matsumoto clarified, briefly returning to her own memories of her time in there. She might not have survived the seventy-eighth like Renji and Rukia, but she had been nowhere near the more civilized districts. "You've never seen it before."

"That doesn't mean I don't know it exists," Toushirou countered defensively. He was convinced it was another effort of his vice-captain's to remind him of his age or stature. "I'm not that naïve."

She gave him a look that was nowhere near her usual pout.

Toushirou sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Alright. Fine," he conceded. "What do you want me to do about it? March down to the thirteenth division and ask Kuchiki?" he questioned, falling back on old habits. "Or better yet, head to the fifth and demand an explanation from her husband."

Uncertainty warred on Matsumoto's face for a moment. "Of course not."

"Then, why tell me? Is it your duty to inform everyone in Seireitei when something happens?" A realization dawned on him, knowing who his subordinate would have had to pass to return to her own division. "You stopped and told Ise-san, didn't you? As well as Kyouraku?"

His vice-captain shifted uncomfortably. She hated it when the little squirt reprimanded her without making it obvious that he was doing so.

"I want you to do something about it, taichou. That's why."

He understood that much but was at a loss for exactly _what_. "And what do you want me to do?"

She sat up on the couch, trying for a semblance of propriety. "I don't know. Something!"

Toushirou had the sudden urge to tear out his hair in frustration, only it was counter-productive. "Do you want me to tell the soutaichou that my fukutaichou _might_ have seen something happen between a husband and his wife in the privacy of his office when she wasn't even supposed to be there?"

"No," Matsumoto responded, pursing her lips. "But you could to tell Kuchiki-taichou."

The captain blinked. "And now, you want me to go tattling to her brother?" He scoffed at the very idea, having a clear picture in his mind of how that would go over. "That would be an interesting conversation. 'Excuse me, Kuchiki-taichou. My fukutaichou saw your sister smacking her husband around. Please do something about it.'"

Matsumoto huffed. _'Damn cheeky bastard,'_ she thought internally. She never would have thought that her cute captain would ever be this mouthy when she signed up to become his vice-captain. She heaved to her feet, assets jiggling in her frustrated annoyance.

"Well, if you don't tell someone about it, then I will!" she declared with finality, wanting something to be done. Yumi might not have said it, but it was clear enough that what she had witnessed had happened before.

"You already have!" Toushirou spluttered, feeling his head abruptly throb with the ensuing migraine. Why, oh why, couldn't he have gotten Yamada to be his second-seat?

Quiet. Hard-working. Meek. Reasonable.

Instead, he was stuck with... _this_.

Matsumoto tossed her head, chest heaving. "Well, there's someone I missed!" she announced in an uppish tone.

She turned on her heels, hair flying out behind her in a whirl as she stormed from his office. In her mind, her intentions were clear. She was going to go to the old man, even if no one else did. She left behind her captain with a throbbing headache, which hadn't been there before.

Irritation welling up inside of him, Toushirou barely refrained from throwing his brush holder after her. The last thing he needed added to the flames was rumors of vice-captain-abuse though some might wonder who could blame him. She nearly suffocated him on an daily basis. Which by the way, Karin was not too happy about.

Toushirou looked pointedly around the room, wondering when it had all become so complicated. His head pulsed again as he thought of the mess that was soon to come, and he quickly decided that it was time for an early lunch. He just couldn't deal with this right now.

As he rose from his desk, he half-heartedly contemplated calling Karin before deciding that he would save that for later.

His head was already hurting.

* * *

When Ichigo arrived home that night, he was surprised to find Rukia already there. Though, considering what had happened, it made some sort of sense. She had been there long enough to have dismissed the nanny and taken the care of the children onto herself.

Ichigo found himself, for the first time in several months, having enough time to strip out of his captain's haori and place Zangetsu in the bedroom before getting down to the task of parenthood.

He greeted his children warmly enough, but between he and his wife was a coiling tension that created an unwelcome silence. Luckily, too enamored by getting to see their mother, the children were oblivious. Syaoran happily chirped away as she talked about something she had done that day, while Kaien kept trying to interject.

Ichigo allowed Rukia to spend time with them, offering to take the twins off her hands. There was no argument as he scooped up Mikan and Ryuu, taking them out into the garden with him. There was a small bench set in the midst of the karesansui, and he settled there quietly. Both children fit easily in his lap, Mikan giggling as she unsteadily reached forward and poked her brother.

Ryuu scrunched up his face but didn't let out a single sound, simply acquiescing to his sister's behavior. Sometimes, Ichigo marveled at how patient and laid back his youngest son could be. His son rarely fussed, unlike Mikan, who was always getting into something. And considering both he and Rukia, he had always assumed that the quiet nature could be attributed to Yuzu or possibly even his mother.

Mikan, on the other hand, was entirely different. She had an inquisitive nature about her, looking around with wide eyes as if absorbing every experience around her. Things weren't done to be mischievous as much as they were to determine what would happen if she poked this or kicked that or even mashed food into the table.

It was easier to entertain infants, something Ichigo noted to himself as he relaxed into the bench and tried to wipe away the events of the day. They didn't require as much effort since it didn't take much to attract their attentions.

Ryuu gradually settled, lulled by his father's warmth and the quiet of the garden. His eyelids drooped as if preparing for a nap, paying little heed to his sister's boisterous movements. Her fingers clumsily plucked at Ichigo's kimono, or she would sit and stare at her own fingers, clenching and unclenching them as if fascinated by the motion. All the while burbles that were her attempt to speak poured from her lips.

His children were a great panacea to the roil of emotions inside.

"Ichigo-san?"

He turned, spotting Nami on the porch and scanning the garden for him. Adjusting the children in his grasp, Ichigo stood and emerged from behind the tree that was somewhat concealing his presence.

"Yes?"

She smiled lightly as she spotted him. "Dinner is ready."

Ichigo joggled the twins, waking Ryuu from his impromptu nap. "Thank you, Nami."

The housekeeper bowed faintly, turning on her heels to head into the house. Ichigo followed after her at a more sedate pace, the smell of Sanji's cooking wafting to his nose. He doubted he would eat much with the twisting in his stomach, not that he ever managed much of a meal while trying to feed the twins.

Dinner was a relatively quiet affair, at least between the married couple. They sat on opposite sides of the table, each between two children. Rukia listened to Syaoran and Kaien continue to babble, nodding and commenting when appropriate. Ichigo even interjected if he had something to say, at one point causing his eldest son to stick out a tongue quite comically at him. But otherwise, he was kept busy making sure that the twins did not create too much of a mess.

He was marginally more successful than he had been the previous night.

The tension was still there, stewing between them, just waiting for the right moment to crack and bubble to the surface. Words exchanged between husband and wife were incredibly polite, treading the line of unfamiliarity. It was all an act, a carefully plotted play designed to keep their children from worrying.

Dinner ended, creating a need for the kids to be bathed. Rukia volunteered to take the twins and Syaoran tagged along, offering to help her mother. Ichigo didn't argue as he was left with the task of wrestling his oldest son. Rukia took them into the larger master bath, leaving he and Kaien to the other.

"I can wash myself," the boy stated stubbornly as Ichigo struggled to unravel him from the confusing tangle of clothing he had made of himself in an attempt to undress.

Ichigo arched a brow, well used to hearing this argument by now. "Can you?" he asked, his son's tendency towards independence becoming more commonplace.

Kaien nodded, successfully navigating one arm out of a sleeve. "I'm old enough."

"Even your hair?"

The boy paused in thought. Ichigo knew that his son hadn't considered that particular body part and was currently debating his abilities to dunk his head in the water and wash his hair. All without accidentally drowning himself. Dark blue eyes, so much like his mother's, shifted to the side.

"I might need a little help," his son conceded, his tone implying that it took great effort to admit it.

Shaking his head, Ichigo decided to humor the boy. Kaien was old enough to sit in the water for a few minutes without drowning himself, after all. He pulled the rest of his son's clothing off, dropping it into a laundry basket, and helped Kaien into the bath. Water splashed about waist high on his son, easing but not completely clearing his worry.

"Fine," Ichigo agreed, much to his son's pleasure. "You wash up, and I'll go get your nemaki. When I come back, we'll wash your hair. Deal?"

"Un!" Kaien was already grabbing for the washcloth and soap, both items carefully stacked on the side and well within his reach.

Ichigo, however, lingered for a few heartbeats. He watched critically, almost amused, as his son diligently wet the cloth and rubbed soap into it. The concentration on his face seemed so serious for such a simple task, but this was a Big Boy job. Kaien was out to prove something. It took several long minutes for his son to realize he was still being watched.

"Tou-san!"

Despite himself, Ichigo chuckled. "I'm going."

He turned and left the bathroom, keeping the door cracked and ear out just in case. It wasn't as if he would be gone long anyway; Kaien's bedroom was just down the hall. He wondered just how telling it was that he realized he would have been less worried if it had been the much younger Syaoran he had left alone. That might have had to do with the fact she wasn't in the habit of attempting dangerous endeavors.

Remembering a certain incident in which his son thought it might be fun to try and _fly_ , Ichigo found himself hurrying. He returned quickly but hovered outside the doorway, giving Kaien time to get most of himself clean. To be expected, he forgot certain body parts. And once it became clear that Kaien was just playing in the water, Ichigo entered, pushing up his sleeves.

"See?" his son declared, as if demanding that his father notice just how old he was.

Ichigo's lips twitched into a smile. "You forgot something," he countered, grabbing the cloth and scrubbing behind the boy's ears, much to his displeasure.

Kaien huffed but didn't argue, allowing his father to help with the places he had missed. As the water splashed around them, he regaled Ichigo with stories of the work he had been forced to do that day. How much he hated arithmetic but loved history, especially when his instructor talked about his father and his exploits.

As always, Ichigo countered with, "I didn't do much."

And Kaien always replied smugly, "But you're a hero."

Ichigo knew better than to try and convince his son otherwise because Kaien was only a child and wouldn't understand. A part of him didn't want his son to understand just yet; he wasn't old enough. But there were no heroes or victors in war and battle, only survivors and those who lived. And yes, there was a difference between the two.

The war against Aizen was something neither he nor Rukia talked about much, especially not in front of their kids. Truthfully, most of the Shinigami who had fought on the front lines didn't really want to discuss the battles. The hordes of strange and bizarre creatures Aizen had thrown at them, their abilities nightmarish and terrifying. It had been as if Aizen had built up an army of nightmares, just waiting to send them after the Shinigami. Though they had been more like distractions than real enemies. The true challenges didn't come until after they had fought their way through the madness.

Ironically, of the three traitors, only one had actually been killed in the war: Aizen himself. And he had been the last to fall, fighting until the bitter end, throwing trick after trick at them. He had anticipated so much of the war, was more than prepared for what Yamamoto-soutaichou had organized against him. If it weren't for Urahara's careful planning, Ichigo doubted that most of their own tactics would have worked.

As for the other traitors, Tousen had committed suicide. But not before giving a long-winded speech about the concept of Justice and how he had failed Her miserably. Ichigo suspected that his actions largely stemmed from Komamura's death.

And Ichimaru… the former third-division captain had turned on Aizen for a reason he refused to explain. He didn't even try to flee after betraying his leader, instead surrendering to Soul Society. Now, he was imprisoned. Or technically, under house arrest. And he had not once tried to escape; no one expected him to anymore. Even stranger, he had a constant companion, the still child-like Nel Tu.

Ichigo pulled himself from his musings and covered Kaien's eyes with one hand, tipping his head backwards to pour water over his son's hair and rinse out the last of the shampoo. Kaien held himself absolutely still, having already learned the consequences of moving and getting soap in one's eyes. With that finished, he pulled his son out of the water, setting him on the bath mat to be dried.

Surprisingly, Kaien allowed it with little argument, his face pulled tight with a child's deep thoughts.

"Tired?" Ichigo asked as he rubbed the towel over his son's hair. "You're actually letting me dry you."

It was true. Ichigo actually managed to get those pesky wet spots on the boy's back.

Kaien shook his head beneath the fluffy cotton. "Nope." He chewed on his lip, completely contradicting his words.

The captain paused in his ministrations, growing concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The answer came far too quickly.

"Kaien."

He used his best fatherly warning tone, one that Isshin never could master. It was almost sad that Ichigo had learned such a thing by using it on his sisters all those years ago. The thought was a brief and fond memory.

His son fidgeted and abruptly grabbed his nemaki, trying to put it on himself though he got tangled in it in the process. "You and okaa-san weren't talking," he mumbled, looking at the floor and hiding in the tangled fabric. "Are you mad at each other again?"

Sometimes, Kaien could be surprisingly astute, his intelligence hiding behind his tendency towards mischief.

Ichigo blinked, sighing inwardly. "We're not mad," he fibbed, the matter too complicated to explain in a way his son would understand. He helped Kaien get untangled from the mess he made of his sleeves. "We're just tired." The man tugged his son close by the edges of the kimono and kissed him on the forehead.

"Tou-saaaaan." Kaien squirmed, dispelling the uncomfortable moment. But he didn't try to escape from the affection.

"Deal with it," Ichigo countered, ruffling a hand over his son's hair and taking secret amusement in watching it stick straight on end. "Your turn to pick the story tonight, remember?"

His son nodded. "Yeah. But I don't have any new stuff."

"Then the next time we go to Yuzu's house, we'll get you some, okay?" Ichigo responded, fond memories of his little sister and her husband flooding his brain.

Kaien perked up. "Hana-oji-san and Yuzu-obaa-san? Really?"

"Yeah," Ichigo confirmed with a chuckle, rising to his feet and playfully slinging his son over a shoulder, knowing it would amuse him. "Yuzu's been bugging me to see you guys, so maybe a vacation should be planned soon."

His son kicked his feet in brief protest before settling down. "Cool. Hana-oji-san promised he would tell me stories about that time you rescued okaa-san."

"You're heard about that countless times," Ichigo reminded him as they headed into Kaien's room, the trip down the hall rather quick.

"So?"

There was no arguing with a child's logic; Ichigo had learned that pretty quickly. He paused in front of Kaien's bookshelf, turning so that his son could see the gathered books. Most were gifts from their friends on birthdays and holidays, and he had a decent collection of stories from all cultures.

"What do you want?"

"Hmm." Kaien paused as he contemplated carefully before pointing. "That one."

Shaking his head, Ichigo lowered Kaien far enough that he could grab the book for himself, noting out of the corner of his eye that it was _Robin Hood._ Another one of his son's favorites. Typical. His children were ridiculously predictable.

Chuckling, Ichigo aimed for Syaoran's room. Despite Rukia having both the twins and Syaoran, he was certain she had managed to finish bathing them all before he could wash Kaien. He was not wrong.

Syaoran was sitting on the floor, dressed with her hair brushed. She was humming softly as she played with a doll, patiently waiting.

"Where's okaa-san?" Ichigo asked as he flipped Kaien and set him carefully down the floor. His son grinned, clutching his book close.

Brown eyes, the same shade as his own, looked dispassionately at the story her brother carried but offered her father a smile. "She's putting Ryuu and Mikan to bed."

Ichigo nodded. "You two behave and okaa-san will read your story tonight."

"Hai."

He leaned over, kissing both children on the forehead and wished them goodnight. Convinced they would be fine for the next few minutes, Ichigo headed down the hall to the twins' bedroom. Rukia was just preparing to leave, pulling the covers over Ryuu and Mikan.

"Kaien's already got his book. They're waiting for you," Ichigo informed her as he stepped up beside the bed, looking down at his children.

"Thank you." It was the most she had said to him in the past hour.

Rukia leaned down, brushing her lips over Ryuu and Mikan's cheeks, then left without another word. He watched her exit in silence, internally debating, before turning back towards the twins. They were both already exhausted, nearly taken in by sleep. Mikan squirmed as he tried to wrestle some blanket away from her for her brother, and he smiled, giving up.

"Goodnight, little ones," Ichigo murmured, fingers tracing over the fuzz on their heads.

They barely stirred.

Nightly rounds completed, Ichigo left to take his own bath, relieved for the opportunity. The silence of the bathing room surrounded him, barely able to hear Rukia's voice as she read the story aloud to their children. It left him with nothing to do but think, reminded of his wife's behavior towards him.

He had never realized how very heavy silence could be until it dragged on between them, stretching with monotonous end. When he emerged from his bath and she still hadn't spoken more than a passing word to him, something inside of him broke. He didn't intend to begin their argument again, but her anger, simmering beneath the surface and obvious in her every movement, had spurred him into action.

"I didn't say anything," he repeated, his voice cutting through the quiet as he dropped his towel into the pile of dirty clothes.

She turned, setting the brush down on the nightstand with a heavy clank. "How else did he find out?" Rukia demanded, rising to her feet. "I sure as hell didn't tell him."

"I don't know. Maybe he guessed," Ichigo returned, shrugging. After long hours of thought, he had quickly discerned what her visit to his office had been about.

Somehow, Byakuya had discovered what was going on between them. Moreover, he had visited Jyuushiro in hopes that the older man could do something about it.

"He's not stupid, you know," Ichigo added.

She rolled her eyes, crossing the floor and heading towards him. "Of course not. But he couldn't have just concocted the thought out of thin air."

Growing angry, despite himself, Ichigo threw up his hands, feeling the incredible urge to tear out his hair. "Do you honestly think I'd want people to know?"

"Ashamed are you?" Rukia retorted nastily, her face scrunching into something rather unpleasant that he had already learned to dislike. "Why don't you go running to my brother then?"

Taken aback by her bringing Byakuya into the argument yet _again_ , Ichigo blinked. "What?" His brow furrowed in confusion.

She was building herself into a righteous fury at this point. "It's like you're married to him," his wife spat, closing the distance between them. "I'm just the stand-in. And worse, you don't even realize it. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Rukia. There's nothing going on between me and your brother."

The very insinuation was enough to spark a hot coil of indignation in his chest. If he wouldn't hit her, then he sure as hell wasn't going to be unfaithful either. Had the woman forgotten that he loved her? That they had four children together? He couldn't help but wonder if she had lost her grip on sanity somewhere.

"I know that!" Rukia shouted, her voice reaching a dangerous volume. "But there's something!"

"You're making no sense!" Ichigo argued, frustration boiling inside of him. He suddenly wanted an Arrancar to kill or a Hollow to attack. Just _something_ to ease what was building. "What do you want from me, woman?"

It was so damn surreal that a part of him felt detached from it all, as if he were outside his body, merely watching the argument and his life fall apart. They were arguing and yelling, their voices rising and ill emotions lashing between them. She had already struck him today; he was preparing for it to happen again. And that in itself had inspired the entire verbal fight.

They weren't fighting over finances or the children or anything normal like other couples. It wasn't because he had cheated or she wanted to return to work. Something simple. No. It was because someone had found out their little secret, always carefully hidden, and chose to air their dirty laundry for the entire world to see.

Ichigo couldn't even find it in himself to be angry with Byakuya, if indeed Rukia's brother had been the one to bring it to light. He was certain that his friend had their best interest at heart, likely also concerned for the children.

His wife, however, was furious. And not entirely with her brother. The rage was built upon the truth that now everyone would know. They would realize that the beatings, once so comical, had become dark and tainted, poisoned with the definite stench of abuse. And because Ichigo simply took it without fighting back or raising a hand in defense.

They were arguing because Rukia thought Ichigo had told someone, as if he would ever go to another person for help about this. He would never. Not ever. It wasn't something he would've wanted anyone to know, not even Byakuya or the ever-so-understanding Jyuushiro. His pride was at stake. And more than that, his dignity.

Not only his, but Rukia's as well.

Rukia snarled, and her palms slammed into his chest, nearly forcing him backwards. "Fight back!" she yelled, the shove enough to startle him. "I want you to fight back or do something, dammit!"

"You know that I'd never hit you," Ichigo snapped, taking a step away and trying to put distance between them.

The worry that they would wake their children nagged at the back of his mind. But he also knew there was almost no calming her at this point. Until one of them left the room, the fight would continue to escalate.

She wasn't entirely willing to let him go, closing the small space he had created. "Well, maybe you should start," Rukia bit out, shoving him again.

Ichigo did not rise to the bait, though his face grew stormy as he fought against the battling urge to defend himself. "I've had enough of this," he muttered, moving away from her.

He would wait until she was rational again.

A slim-fingered hand wrapped around his upper arm. "Don't you walk away from me."

Ichigo paused, eyes staring straight ahead. "Let go, Rukia," he said in his calmest tone. "Let's not do this."

They were falling apart enough as it was. How much more would it take to make them shatter completely?

A fist struck against the back of his shoulder, hard enough to jar him. "You're always so damn understanding," she hissed, but her tone was beginning to sound more defeated than angry.

Ichigo didn't respond, mentally willing her to let go.

Frustrated, her fingers tightened around his arm, and she balled up her fist again, striking him harder, this time closer to his spine. He absorbed the blow without a sound, though it was more bruising than the one previous.

A moment of tense silence, less than it took for him to draw half a breath, passed before Rukia abruptly released him. She shoved his arm away from her as if he'd been the one to offend her. With a grumbled curse, she stormed towards their shared bathing room, sliding the door open and then slamming it shut behind her.

One of the pictures on the dresser toppled over from the force of the impact, crashing to the floor. The glass immediately shattered, sending shards in all directions. Part of the frame slanted off, slipping out of place.

A moment later, Ichigo heard another crash from within the bathroom and couldn't help but wonder what else she had broken. She wasn't releasing any pain through their tattered bond, so he knew she hadn't injured herself.

He also knew that this had actually been restrained for her. Those few strikes were nothing compared to the usual. Just as she had become more distant to her family, she wasn't even hitting him as much as she used to. It was a sad affair when he judged how far they were from one another with her anger.

Ichigo was left standing, staring at the door to the hall. His back tingled where healing was already beginning, seeking to smooth out bruises and unknot tense muscles. He took in several long breaths, trying to ease the painful coiling in his chest before he turned to clean up the fallen picture.

Crossing the room, he carefully knelt, gathering up the remnants of the frame. His eyes traced the scene in the photograph, a posed picture that had been taken before the war had fully escalated, before he had even met Hirako Shinji. He probably had Urahara-san to thank for taking it, one of the few photos in existence of the entire group: Orihime, Ishida, Renji, Rukia, Chad, and himself with one of Kon's plush paws futilely inching towards a grasp of Orihime.

Simpler times.

Ichigo plucked the last few shards of glass from the frame and carefully pressed the right corner back into place. He would need to replace the covering later, but for now, he reached up and set the photo onto the dresser. His attention was then moved to the glass, unwilling to leave it waiting for the servants. He didn't want to chance either of them cutting themselves.

The rote movement, requiring little to no thought, helped distract him from the numbness that was working its way through his body. He really didn't want to think, not about his life or his marriage or how everything was going to blow up the next day.

Finely tuned father senses quickly picked up the sound of a baby crying. Ichigo glanced once at the bathroom door before rising to his feet. He deposited the broken glass into the trash before leaving their shared bedroom. He knew without much need to guess that the noise of discontent had come from the twins' room. Syaoran and Kaien were past the age of waking him up with loud and teary complaints.

The frustration running through his veins was desperately seeking an outlet. He strongly wished that he had something to battle. Perhaps a war for distraction or a rogue Espada who needed dispatching. He had been inactive for too long, and he could almost hear Zangetsu vibrating from the other room, also eager for a good fight.

Ichigo entered the twins' room, making his way easily in the dark to the bed that the two shared. Mikan was still asleep, oblivious to her brother's complaint as she hogged most of the blankets. Ryuunosuke had kicked off what covering he had been allowed and was crying loudly, fists punching into the air.

"Shhh," Ichigo soothed, lifting his unhappy son from the bed. Immediately, his nose encountered a rather foul stench, and it was easy to see why Ryuu was being so noisy.

He carried his son over to the changing table, soothing noises slipping from his mouth as he quickly changed the cloth diaper. Holding his breath, he tossed the dirty one into the small hamper specifically designed for such purposes. Ryuu, seeing that he was finally getting the attention he had demanded, settled down and gurgled happily as he was cleaned and rediapered.

Ryuunosuke was already yawning by the time he was deposited into bed next to his sister. Ichigo gently tugged some of the blanket away from Mikan, ignoring her whine of displeasure, and tucked his son back into the covers. Ryuu immediately curled next to his sister, eyes slipping closed.

Ichigo brushed his fingers over his son's head, feeling the softness of his hair beneath his touch. He lingered, watching Ryuu fall asleep. The desire to stay far away from his bedroom was pressing down on his shoulders. He contemplated spending the night in the guest room, unwilling to return. Yet, the thought of sleeping alone was thoroughly unappealing.

Once Ryuu's breath evened out and even Mikan had returned to her restful sleep, Ichigo slipped away. He paused by Kaien's doorway, peeking in to check on his eldest son. The boy was sprawled over the covers, fast asleep, drool painting the bedding that had shifted beneath him. Ichigo smiled at the amusing sight, slipping inside and carefully returning the blanket to its rightful place.

He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, rolling his eyes when the boy whined in his throat, protesting even in his sleep. Kaien twitched, one leg kicking out. But he settled down again, already falling back into the arms of sleep. It usually took an explosion to wake his energetic son once Kaien was finally out for the night.

He left Kaien and made his final round, stopping by to check on Syaoran. Ichigo peeked in, finding that his daughter was actually awake. He could see the gleam of her eyes from the doorway.

Concerned, he stepped inside. "Why aren't you sleeping, sweetheart?" He lowered himself down next to her, running a hand over her back.

She yawned visibly, shifting to see him better. "Heard something," Syaoran responded.

Ichigo winced, knowing they had been too loud. "I'm sorry. Okaa-san and I had a little disagreement."

She snuggled closer to him. "I know," came her answering mumble. "Heard it before."

He forced himself to take a calming breath, inwardly cursing both himself and Rukia; their fights were something his children should have never been forced to witness. His fingers moved to her hair, carding through the soft strands in an attempt to soothe his daughter back to sleep.

"We'll try to be quiet from now on," Ichigo promised, shifting position so that he was leaning against the wall.

He seriously contemplated spending the rest of the night there, sleeping just like that. He had certainly found rest in worse conditions during the war, dropping down wherever there had been a reasonably safe place.

Syaoran made a noise in her throat and settled, pressing closer to his warmth. And the ensuing silence and darkness left him with nothing to do but think.

He wondered just when his life had started coasting downhill. Ichigo loved Rukia, couldn't imagine for one second leaving her. But there was a pain that stabbed him inside every time he even thought of her.

He knew that it wasn't entirely her fault. There were a lot of things building up to this, a lot of circumstances that simply couldn't be avoided. He wasn't about to demand that she give up her place in the thirteenth, just as she would never ask him to retire from being a captain. The twins had been a pleasant surprise, right as she had been prepared to return to work after Syaoran, thereby delaying her plans.

Frustration fueled most of Rukia's fury. Frustration with herself and with the situation. Therefore, he couldn't entirely blame her for her actions, not that he was entirely accepting of them. He wasn't that much of a masochist.

It was a near impossibility for him to fight back; he simply couldn't. Nor would he choose to. He couldn't bring himself to raise a hand against the woman he loved, the mother of his children. He couldn't make the decision to end it either. He didn't want his kids to grow up without their mother; he knew that feeling all too well.

And he still _loved_ Rukia. A part of him desperately believed that if he just continued to hang on, it would all work out in the end. Things would settle down. The thirteenth division wouldn't need her as much. Somehow, everything would repair itself.

It was painful, the fact that he didn't know how to fix it himself. Recklessly attacking couldn't solve everything, much to his disappointment. He found himself wishing for the old days sometimes, remembering when they had first fallen in love. The initial step from friendship to something more had been awkward yet unmistakable, growing from a sense of devout loyalty and the sharing of burdens.

They hadn't gotten together until after the war, but the happiness had always been there. Their friends had pushed them one way, even as they had stubbornly fought for their own choices. In the end, they had only been able to concede to the feelings.

And Ichigo had never regretted it, not for one second.

Syaoran stirred against him, attracting his attention since he had thought she was already asleep. "Tou-chan?"

"Hmm?"

Her hand slipped out from beneath the covers, patting him on the thigh. "You can sleep here if you want."

Ichigo was surprised by her offer. "You'll share your bed with me?" he asked, knowing that his daughter jealously guarded her belongings, much like a certain noble uncle.

"Just this once," Syaoran conceded sleepily.

The fifth-division captain chuckled, lightly sending a check through the house with his reiatsu. Rukia was still in their bedroom, her own reiatsu a mixture of turbulent emotions that was rather painful. Ichigo wasn't quite ready to return to the inevitable confrontation. So he took Syaoran up on her offer, shifting downwards and pulling her into his arms.

His fingers lightly petted her hair. "You're too kind."

"I didn't want you to go," she responded, making a contented noise.

Ah, the truth emerged.

"Monsters again?"

She didn't answer, burying her face in his chest as if to hide from the so-called creatures beneath her futon. He wondered what she had seen that would inspire her nightmares and fears.

"Well, they won't come as long as I'm here."

"I know." The relief in her voice was audible even to him.

Her breathing began to even as she settled into sleep, knowing that her father would protect her. The very thought made Ichigo's heart swell, some of the cracks healing over, soothed by his daughter.

For his kids, that was why he continued to stay strong. He refused to break or snap. His young ones depended on someone to be there for him.

A comfortable silence descended on the room, and Ichigo found his own worries easing, if only slightly, despite the clenching of his heart. Rukia's shouts still wanted to echo in his ears, however, reminding him that nothing had been solved.

Just as he was beginning to believe Syaoran had finally fell asleep, his ears caught her mumbling one last thing.

"Don't cry."

It was nearly enough to break his heart.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: A karesansui is a Japanese rock garden


	5. Complaints

Morning came, and nothing had changed in their routine. The children were woken, dressed, and fed, then left in the hands of their nanny. Tohru, a middle-aged woman, had proven to be quite adept at keeping an eye on four kids at once. Ichigo and Rukia had depended on her since Syaoran's birth. Of course, they only required her services when Byakuya was also working and Jyuushiro as well since he often wanted to take the children.

Stony silence continued between Rukia and him. He noticed it and said nothing, a part of him relieved when she left for the office before he did. Besides, he was worried enough, dreading going into work.

It normally didn't take him that long to get to the fifth, especially when he was feeling energetic enough to shunpo. However, the short distance seemed especially long today. He felt as if eyes were watching him, carefully measuring his every move. The sound of barely hushed whispers grated on his nerves, and he knew that the events of yesterday had not been as contained as he had hoped.

The sense of dread inside of him continued to grow, sitting heavy and cold in the pit of his belly. Never once had he wanted to go into the office as little as he currently did.

Worse, those staring were mostly unseated Shinigami, names he would never be able to remember. The incident had sifted down into the lower ranks, likely passing by word of mouth until it seemed everyone would find out.

Even Byakuya.

Ichigo was already apprehensive of that particular conversation, wanting to avoid the look he might see on the other man's face. He wasn't even certain he could anticipate Byakuya's reaction. He only hoped that pity wouldn't be part of it.

By the time he arrived at the office, Ichigo's mood had completely plummeted. While he hadn't exactly woken in good spirits, he hadn't plunged into gloom just yet. Now, he was wallowing in it.

He passed by a few from his own division, a polite "Ohayou gozaimasu, Kurosaki-taichou" emerging from them before they hurried off to their duties. They were acting as if nothing was wrong, smiles on their faces and not a hint of whispers. They had to have known, which meant that they were pretending nothing was wrong.

Ichigo wasn't certain if he was relieved or irritated by that.

He stepped into the main office, closing the door behind him. Yumichika looked up at his entrance, rising to his feet.

"Good morning, Ichigo-kun," his vice-captain greeted, following him as he opened the door to his personal office and stepped inside.

He couldn't find it in him to offer the pleasantry, only capable of grunting what could vaguely be construed as acknowledgment of Yumichika's presence. Ichigo unstrapped Zangetsu from his back, setting his zanpakutou on the sword stand off to the side, which was well within reaching distance.

"Everyone knows, don't they?"

Behind him, Yumichika nodded. "Well, Matsumoto and those fools _were_ here." He crossed his arms. "It's not unexpected."

Plopping behind his desk, Ichigo sighed, rubbing his forehead. He had suspected as much, which was the exact reason he had purposely kept it a secret. No one _needed_ to know. He didn't _need_ help.

Silence swept through the room as Yumichika cast for something to say to his captain.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, taichou," the vice-captain finally said quietly, purple eyes apologetic.

Ichigo looked up, confusion furrowing his brow. He wasn't sure what his subordinate was apologizing for, why he would need to express his regret. He couldn't have known what Yumichika had done. Instead, Ichigo simply inclined his head in acceptance before lowering it back to his hands, burying his face in his palms.

Awkward did not begin to describe the emotions coursing through Yumichika as he cast for something else to say.

"I'd like to be alone if you don't mind."

Yumichika sucked in his lip before nodding. "Of course."

He turned and left, careful to softly close the door behind him. The sense of uselessness warred strongly in the vice-captain, increasing his own sorrow. He wished that there was something he was capable of doing to help his captain. The sight of strong Ichigo, usually so determined and confident, looking defeated seemed so very wrong.

Left behind in his office, Ichigo dismally wondered how much worse it was going to get. The stares and the whispers were already more than he was willing to deal with. His division acting way too perfect and unconcerned was strange, and his vice-captain was apologetic for reasons only Yumichika knew. He still hadn't managed to speak to Rukia civilly, not even exchanging any words since the night before.

His life was crashing around him, strained edges cracking and dropping to the floor in broken pieces. His kids were worried, and he knew that people would start asking questions. They would wonder. But he had no excuses or explanations, nothing to offer them.

And then, the ever more pressing worry. What was he going to say to Byakuya?

He dreaded his family finding out, partially worried for Rukia's safety once Karin learned the unspeakable truth. He could just imagine his sisters' reactions, Yuzu's horror and then immediate concern. She was such a kind heart. Isshin's reaction was far beyond his comprehension; his mind wisely strayed away from any sort of hypothesis on that matter.

Mostly, however, he was worried about Rukia and what the knowledge would change for her. He had never once in his mind called her an abuser, but he knew that the term was going to be thrown around constantly now. Everyone would be using it, looking at her, whispering it beneath their breaths.

They would treat her differently now, talking about her behind her back. And it would break her.

Dammit, this was the reason he had never wanted anyone to know. Not only for himself but for her as well. He didn't want anyone to hate Rukia because they had no right to, none at all. If anyone had a right to despise his wife, it was him, but he didn't. He loved her. Yet, Ichigo knew that they would do it anyway.

It was his damn marriage and his damn wife and his damn problem. They weren't hurting anyone, expect perhaps themselves. Ichigo forcefully stayed away from thoughts of the effect it might have on their children. He had been careful, or as much as he thought he could be, making sure they only fought when the kids were asleep or not there. Yet, Kaien's innocent inquiry and Syaoran's offhand comment had proven that he hadn't been successful.

Which made him think that Byakuya's source of information might have been closer to him than he would have thought. If Rukia hadn't told and he hadn't, that left only the servants. Or his children. And Ichigo was more inclined to believe the latter. Children were incredibly honest in their innocence, especially when concerned.

On that note, Ichigo's mind started churning wheels of another sort, recalling what Rukia had said about Byakuya and him. His wife had basically accused them of having an affair, which was utterly ridiculous. She knew better than that. It simply made no sense. Byakuya was his brother-in-law, his best friend, nothing more than that. There wasn't anything between them.

Ichigo sighed, fingers digging painfully into his scalp. He needed to pull himself out of this gut-churning rut. There were things he had to do, work to complete, despite the shitty turn his life had taken. There was no room for slacking off on the job.

Raking a hand through his hair, Ichigo reached for the stack of paperwork Yumichika had left for him. His vice-captain was always prepared and prompt. He knew from the beginning that he had made a good choice.

But his hand froze halfway to the stack, eyes locked on the folded paper decorating the top. Yamamoto-soutaichou's symbol stood out prominently, and he knew without even having to open it, though he did, exactly what it was. The day couldn't possibly get any worse.

Growling under his breath, he snatched the paper and unfolded it, quickly scanning the words. As he had suspected, it was a summons. Officially, it stated that he was invited to share breakfast with the captain-commander, due to start in twenty minutes. Ichigo knew that it was in all honesty a command. Yamamoto expected him to come without argument, no excuses allowed.

Ichigo refolded the paper and left it on his desk as he rose to his feet. Groaning at the thought of sharing breakfast with the crafty old man, he grabbed Zangetsu and strapped his zanpakutou to his back.

He left his office. Yumichika looked up as the door opened, his eyes carefully blank.

"I'll be at the first division," Ichigo explained gruffly, already dreading the conversation. It didn't take a genius to figure out what exactly Yamamoto wanted to discuss.

His vice-captain inclined his head. "Don't worry. I will keep an eye on things here."

Ichigo refrained from answering, knowing that much himself. He headed for the door and was out of his division in less than a second. Though it was unnecessary, he used shunpo for his entire trip. He simply didn't want to see the stares he would undoubtedly be given.

* * *

Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni was having a rather difficult day, or to be more precise, a difficult morning. He sat back, lighting his pipe, and puffed on it thoughtfully as one of his servants slowly set out food for the breakfast he had ordered Kurosaki-taichou attend.

In all his years of being captain-commander, he had never encountered a situation quite like the one he was about to address. Not to say that complaints hadn't been made before. In the past, he had received comments, one from a lower seat from another division, who had claimed to witness something. And another from Kurosaki's own vice-captain, but there was nothing concrete. And since Kurosaki hadn't made a complaint, his hands had been tied in that regards.

In his heart, he had hoped that the situation would resolve itself, that it was a one-time occurrence and his interference would be unnecessary.

That hope had proven to be fruitless yesterday afternoon. After the event, so carefully described by the numerous visitors he had received, Yamamoto found himself in an awkward position. He now had no choice but to at least question Kurosaki-taichou and discover if the boy really needed aid or not.

Yesterday had started with Matsumoto-fukutaichou's visit, strongly unprecedented. Honestly, he wasn't aware she knew the exact location of his office, which he moved frequently around the first division to avoid unwanted and unnecessary complaints. He had explained it as a need for a change of scenery. In reality, he only wanted to hear the problems of those determined enough to seek him out.

In any case, the jiggling woman's visit had been brief but full of information. She was concerned for Kurosaki-taichou, describing in detail what she had witnessed in his office. Matsumoto-fukutaichou had eventually departed, leaving behind a plea that he do something about the matter, though what exactly she had left purposefully vague. Somehow, he had a migraine by the time she flitted out the doorway.

There were a few other visitors immediately following, most from several unseated Shinigami, whose witnessed accounts would hold no bearing. He could only assure them that he would look into it before sending the quivering few on their way. He honestly couldn't understand their trembling; he'd only let out a little reiatsu.

The old man had then taken an early lunch, having the sneaky suspicion that he would be getting visits similar to those all day. He had been correct. By the time he returned, his dearest children were waiting for him, Jyuushiro's third-seats hiding behind their captain with widened eyes. Again, he couldn't imagine why.

Shunsui and his friend had taken more time to explain the situation, Jyuushiro prompting his third-seats to explain what they had seen. Eyes cast to the floor and mumbling out their tale in a strangely subdued manner, both Kiyone and Sentarou had scampered back to the relative safety behind their captain the moment their tale was through.

Yamamoto had noticed that Shunsui seemed particularly angered, his lips set in a thin line of displeasure that he'd rarely witnessed before. Though that might have been due to the distinct air of sobriety hanging around the man. Yamamoto never could be sure.

Once his third-seats had spoken, Jyuushiro then took the opportunity to describe Kuchiki-taichou's visit and complaint that morning. Although it had been given in confidence, Jyuushiro explained that considering the situation, it was best he pass it on to the captain-commander.

The migraine he had been combating all morning returned full-force. Jyuushiro was both earnest and concerned, obviously locked in a mental war with himself. He didn't know what to do, and Yamamoto knew that probably bothered the younger captain the most. Jyuushiro was so used to being able to handle any situation.

Both Shunsui and Jyuushiro might have continued speaking to him even more extensively, but as it were, they had been interrupted by another visitor for Yamamoto. Ayasegawa-fukutaichou was waiting patiently for a chance to speak with him, undoubtedly about the same topic as all of Yamamoto's other petitioners.

His dear children took that chance to exit, taking the frightened third-seats with them and leaving Ayasegawa and he to their conversation. The vice-captain had apologized for interrupting before repeating the same concerns as before, a fire alit in his eyes. That determination only further highlighted the Kurosaki boy's ability to incite loyalty and love in all who knew him.

It was a Yamamoto trait, the captain-commander imagined, puffing the last bits of tobacco from his pipe. Got it from his great grandfather, though it had somehow skipped over the boy's crazy father.

Honestly, Kurosaki had even managed to capture the heart of the Kuchiki glacier, even if neither of them knew it.

Ayasegawa-fukutaichou refused to depart until he had agreed to at least speak with Kurosaki and address the matter. Not even Yamamoto's careful application of increased reiatsu could sway the vice-captain to leave. Ayasegawa had just continued to stare with that hard glint in his eyes, hands folded delicately in his lap, completely unperturbed.

Dammit, he was one of the few that trick didn't work on.

By the time he convinced Ayasegawa to leave, the day was approaching dusk. Most of his officers had already left, including his own vice-captain. Yamamoto had resolved to solve everything in the morning, thus his current plans of breakfast with Kurosaki.

But before he could escape for the day, he had been nearly frozen in his tracks by a curt and obviously annoyed Hitsugaya-taichou.

"The Kurosaki's are fighting, sir," he had said very abruptly. "Do something."

Yamamoto hadn't even had time to blink before the boy was gone, obviously convinced that he had done his civic duty for the day. Well, at least his visit had been incredibly short, remarkably mimicking the icy captain's stature.

With one last puff, Yamamoto extinguished his pipe and dismissed his servants. It was just in time for Kurosaki to arrive, the boy being shown in by the first division's vice-captain. The young captain had a wary scowl firmly in place.

Yamamoto hid his amused grin behind his tea cup. "Kurosaki-taichou, thank you for joining me for breakfast."

Setting Zangetsu in the stand near the door, Ichigo carefully lowered himself to the floor on the other side of the table. "Yes, soutaichou," he responded, obviously being as minimalistic as possible.

The food was already laid out between them, steaming and mouth-wateringly delicious, ready for consumption. Yamamoto was the first to pick up his chopsticks, Ichigo following at a more sedate pace. They began eating in absolute silence. The captain-commander was thoroughly enjoying his breakfast, inwardly praising his cook. Kurosaki, however, was picking at his, eating only enough to be polite.

Yamamoto knew he had great stores of patience, wondering if the silence would unnerve Kurosaki enough to speak first. It was plainly obvious that the boy was inwardly stewing, clearly irritated, and resolved to let him continue to simmer. It often worked in the old man's favor when trying to ferret out information.

The entire breakfast was spent in a clear-cut silence, the only sound that of quiet chewing and dishes moving across the table. The servants came in to clear away the remnants of the completed meal without anything having been said.

Kurosaki had completely turned inwards, and it became obvious when he began to think about _everything_ that was impacting his life. His face, usually full of scowls or pinched brows, was starting to flicker with dread and worry. The thoughts were bouncing around in his head repeatedly with nothing to distract him in the silence.

Yamamoto decided it was the perfect time to make his attack.

Setting down his cup, he noisily cleared his throat. "Kurosaki-taichou, is there anything you would like to discuss with me?"

The boy blinked as if coming from a very far place, lifting up his fallen gaze. "Nothing I'd _like_ to discuss, sir."

Very polite. An oddity for the usually gruff captain. Not that the boy hadn't any manners, just that he chose when and where to use them. And Yamamoto did not fail to catch his stress on the term "like."

He shifted, fixing the boy with a firm, yet gentle stare. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Yamamoto lifted a brow, choosing to go about this at another route. Obviously, direct questions were not going to have an effect. At least, not without a little preparation first.

"I had some very interesting visitors yesterday, Kurosaki-taichou," he began experimentally, redirecting the conversation as he shifted to get comfortable.

Kurosaki made a non-committal noise, a response unnecessary.

Inwardly, Yamamoto grinned. He hadn't this much fun questioning someone since his last conversation with Urahara. That boy had been a master of double-speak, giving as good as he got.

"They told me some very--" He cleared his throat very loudly. "--Interesting things. Particularly about an incident earlier in the day."

Brown eyes lowered back to the table as the young captain listened, hands dropping to settle on his knees.

Yamamoto continued, "First, there was Matsumoto-fukutaichou. She seemed especially concerned. And then, shortly thereafter, both Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou. And of course, the third-seats from the thirteenth division." He paused, letting Kurosaki stew on this before continuing, changing the order of his visitors only slightly. "To my utmost surprise, I was then visited by Hitsugaya-taichou, strangely enough."

Still no reaction. Oh, the boy was good. Yamamoto wondered if he had practiced that stone-faced expression. He had probably been expecting the inquiry. Well, no matter. He had two thousand years on the boy. He wouldn't even see the next one coming.

The captain-commander whipped out the last punch. "And lastly, your very own fukutaichou."

This seemed to have an effect. Kurosaki-taichou's head jerked up in stunned surprise, clearly not expecting his vice-captain to have said something. Yamamoto knew that the fifth division was drawing together in a loyal net, staunchly refusing to speak. Though he doubted that Kurosaki had ordered them to do so.

Pretending he hadn't noticed the boy's reaction, Yamamoto blithely continued, "Ayasegawa-fukutaichou was especially solicitous and has been for some time. This was not his first visit to my office."

Eyes widening noticeably, Kurosaki very subtly paled. He only noticed it because he was looking for it, catching the boy as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Yet, no comment was made.

"Are you absolutely certain there is nothing you would like to say?" Yamamoto prompted, certain he had pinned Kurosaki right where he wanted him. "Think carefully, Kurosaki-taichou. I assure you, any issues will be appropriately handled."

The boy's lips had thinned. It was almost as if he had to force the words out through him, jaw clenched determinedly.

"No, sir. I do not _believe_ that I have any problems at the moment."

Reluctantly, Yamamoto conceded defeat. There was nothing he could do if Kurosaki was unwilling to file a complaint.

He sighed heavily. "Very well." He waited a few moments more to see if it would prompt Kurosaki to speak, but the boy remained silent. "Carry on, Kurosaki-taichou."

"Yes, sir."

Within seconds, Yamamoto's office was empty of his youngest captain, only the barest hints of his reiatsu lingered.

The old man rubbed his forehead and called for his vice-captain to summon Kuchiki-taichou; after all, the entire mess had started with him. Since Kurosaki was being close-mouthed, he had to rely on other witnesses, and he had learned from Jyuushiro that it was Kuchiki's fault to begin with.

And then, on second thought, he sent a summons for Kurosaki-fukutaichou as well, wanting to hear her side of the story. If indeed, she was willing to give any story at all.

He had the feeling today was going to be a long day.

* * *

Ichigo returned to his office, his eyes catching Yumichika's the moment he walked through the door. He understood in that startling second just what his vice-captain had been apologizing for earlier. He couldn't find it in himself to be angry, however, knowing that Yumichika had done it entirely out of concern.

He kept his silence, entering his office and shutting the door behind him. Normally, he would leave it open as was his usual policy. But instead, he closed it, letting everyone know he didn't want to be disturbed. He knew Yumichika would make sure of that.

The moment he sat down, his head found his hands, and he stared at the grainy wood of his desktop. He had understood the purpose of Yamamoto naming names. The old man had wanted him to know that it wasn't just an idle rumor, that he had options. But the captain-commander wouldn't understand.

Ichigo wasn't asking for help, even if it was being offered. It irked him that people thought he needed it.

His fingers clenched against his scalp, his feelings warring between irritation and anger. He was at a loss for what to do now, knowing that everything was going to gradually explode around him.

A commotion outside his door distracted him from wallowing in the situation, making him think he had a visitor. He cursed the shielding in his office. He couldn't sense worth a shit with it in place. He wondered if it was Byakuya.

Ichigo was proven wrong when the door burst open, allowing both Jyuushiro and Shunsui to enter. They were visiting. Oh, joy.

Normally, he was pretty happy to see Ukitake and mostly indifferent about Shunsui. But today, he was apathetic. It couldn't have been a mere coincidence.

Shunsui was the first to barge in, Jyuushiro trailing after with an apology in his eyes.

"Ichigo-kun!" Shunsui declared in a jovial tone, ever-present hat cocked to the side. "It's been a long time since I've seen you."

Ichigo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though he was strongly tempted to. "It was two days ago at the captain's meeting."

"Which you slept through," Jyuushiro commented, reminding his oldest and dearest friend.

The eighth-division captain waved off the reminder nonchalantly as he plopped down at the table in Ichigo's office. "I just thought I'd come by to share a drink with you," he said, wriggling his sake jug demonstratively.

Ichigo had risen to his feet, not sure if his intention was to join them or throw them out. But somehow, his feet found themselves moving to the table anyway. He sat down next to Shunsui, Jyuushiro lowering himself on Ichigo's other side until he was trapped between the two senior captains. He sensed a plot.

Humming under his breath, Shunsui magically produced two bowls from seemingly nowhere, setting one down in front of Ichigo. Sake immediately sloshed into the cream-colored porcelain, looking oh-so-inviting. Ichigo could feel the thirst drying out his mouth.

"And how are the kids?" Shunsui began conversationally, pouring his own, but Ichigo noticed it wasn't near as full as his. "Do they miss their favorite grandfather?"

Jyuushiro rolled his eyes.

It felt so damn surreal.

Before Ichigo even realized what he was doing, sarcasm spilled from his lips. "Yes. They miss their Jyuu-chan." He fingered the bowl in front of him, finger tracing the curve, knowing that he shouldn't but really wanting to. "They keep asking when he'll come over for dinner again."

There was a moment of stunned silence, probably because he had just cracked something similar to a joke, before Shunsui chuckled and shook his head. He was unsure if he should be offended by the response or not. Jyuushiro was surprised at the younger man's sarcasm, though he recognized the note of tension in Ichigo's voice.

Shunsui looked at his best friend, attempting watery doe-eyes for some sympathy. "Mah. Jyuu-chan's always more popular than me," he complained, tipping back his drink and swallowing the alcohol in one quick and well-practiced move.

The smile on Jyuushiro's lips was thin at best, obviously strained. "I can't imagine why."

The temptation had become too much for Ichigo. Fuck it.

He grabbed the bowl and abruptly tossed down the sake, enjoying the almost numbing burn. Shunsui always had the good stuff, smooth as it flowed down his throat. The moment his bowl touched the table top, Shunsui was filling it again, though it didn't stop him from babbling in the background. He probably hoped the sake would get Ichigo uninhibited enough to talk.

He was going to be very surprise.

"It's the hair," Shunsui was replying on the edge of Ichigo's attention, his lips quirking in amusement. "It has to be the hair."

The second bowl-full went down as quickly as the first. Shunsui's continuous blather became a drone in the back of Ichigo's conscious. Jyuushiro was noticeably silent, his eyes seemingly locked on the younger captain. Ichigo wondered if the two of them had even noticed that he wasn't speaking anymore, just drinking whatever Shunsui saw fit to pour for him.

Shunsui talked. Ichigo drank.

Then, a hand settled on his arm, stilling his movement in the midst of bringing the bowl up to his lips one more time.

"I think you've had enough."

Jyuushiro's voice washed gently over him. It should have been soothing, but Ichigo could only find irritation.

He blinked, unsure of how many he had actually had. His eyes fell to the table, where Shunsui was preparing to cork the jug. He couldn't have that. Ichigo gave the older man a look, speaking with his eyes when his lips refused to work.

Uncertain, Shunsui's gaze shifted to the side, and the jug returned to the table. "It was a gift," he explained with a nervous laugh. "A gift I brought just for you."

Inclining his head in acceptance, he ignored Jyuushiro's stilling hand on his arm and completed the motion, downing the last of his bowl. It wasn't even burning anymore.

It took him a moment to filter the noise of more commotion outside his door from the uncomfortable silence stretching in the room. He turned towards the entrance, not even noticing when Jyuushiro and Shunsui made quick movements behind him.

In a rush of hurried motion and loud noises, Kenpachi and Ikkaku made their entrance, being trailed at a more sedate pace by Isane-san and Hanatarou. Was he doomed to be visited by countless numbers of Shinigami today?

Ichigo couldn't help but wonder.

His office felt too small as it was filled with Kenpachi and Ikkaku's voices and their very presence.

"Yo, Ichigo!" Kenpachi greeted in a noise that was more like an attempt at a happy grunt. Yachiru was noticeably absent from his shoulder.

The younger captain rolled his eyes. "I don't want to spar today, Kenpachi," came Ichigo's automatic response as he shoved himself to his feet. His eyes cast towards the table, but the sake bottle had mysteriously disappeared, along with his former visitors.

Those sneaky bastards. Some gift.

Sniffing in disappointment, Ichigo picked his way across the floor to his desk as Kenpachi snorted behind him.

"That's not what I came here for," he countered, plopping down on the floor in front of the desk in a sprawled, crossed leg position.

"Good afternoon, Ichigo-kun," Isane greeted much more pleasantly and far politer than her loud husband. She lowered herself gracefully to the floor, her vice-captain taking a seat beside her.

Hanatarou dipped his head towards Ichigo. "Good afternoon, Ichigo-san."

Even after thirty years and marrying his sister, Ichigo still couldn't convince him to drop the honorific. It was a habit the healer would probably never break.

Awkward couldn't even begin to describe the emotion coursing through Ichigo as he sat down behind his desk, feeling marginally safer. "Can I help you with something?" he asked of his unwanted visitors.

"Nah," Ikkaku responded as he plopped down on the floor, sprawling over the polished wood and propping his head on his hand. "We just dropped by for a visit."

They _were_ making themselves pretty comfortable, Ichigo noticed. "I see."

From the corner of his eyes, he caught Isane and Hanatarou having some sort of mental conversation as they exchanged multiple glances.

"Hadn't seen ya in awhile," Kenpachi grunted as he moved around to get comfortable, propping his chin on his palm. "I thought somethin' happened to ya."

Why was everyone saying that? Was it like the national conversation starter in an Awkward Situation?

Ichigo shrugged, repeating the same thing he had told Shunsui. "You saw me at the meeting. I was across from Byakuya and right between Renji and Izuru."

The other captain gave him a strange look with his one eye gleaming. "I didn't miss ya. I meant outside of meetings." He grinned ferally. "The brat's been wanting to play with your brats again."

Ichigo snorted.

Yachiru couldn't find their house on her own, thank goodness. She had to be taken there.

"I don't think Kaien's recovered from her last visit." He paused, reconsidering the children's Yachiru-nee-san. "Though Syaoran'll be interested."

Kenpachi rolled the one eye, making him appear slightly less fearsome. "She filled Yachiru's head of worse ideas of pretty princesses and other crap than Yumichika ever did."

"I heard that, Ken-kun," Yumichika chimed from the next room over.

The eleventh-division captain shifted his gaze towards the door, shuddering briefly. "Damn prissy bastard," he muttered under his breath, obviously trying not to be heard. "Still knows whenever we do stuff."

Ichigo was vaguely amused by this exchange. There was another, more hidden reason he had chosen Yumichika to be his vice-captain. The fluttery man had an amazing ability to scare Kenpachi away on occasion.

Sensing that his other two visitors weren't going to speak on their own, Ichigo chose to address them. "When is Yuzu going to visit Soul Society?"

Hanatarou beamed, brightening instantly at the mention of his wife. "She's planning on coming for Orihime's baby shower."

"Is Karin-san coming?" Isane chimed in thoughtfully. "Or your other friends from the living world?"

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. "I honestly don't know," he responded, wincing as he admitted he was a little out of the loop. "I'd have to ask Byakuya. Or better yet, Renji."

"Like that moron knows what's going on," Ikkaku commented with a chuckle. "He only knows he's supposed ta show up at a certain time. That's enough for him."

Isane shot her husband an exasperated glance. "Ikkaku," she put in reprovingly.

He returned with an innocent look. "What?"

The female captain shook her head and returned to the conversation. "I've been organizing it with my sister," she casually explained. "And we had asked Rukia to... help... us..." she trailed off, inadvertently stumbling upon the menos grande in the room, which everyone had been trying to talk about but didn't know how to bring up.

An uncomfortable silence fell.

"Well, that's it then," Kenpachi interjected. "Might as well talk about it."

Ichigo clenched his jaw. "Let's not."

"Ano…" Hanatarou began uneasily, big blue eyes lifting apologetically to Ichigo. "We didn't want to believe just rumors, Ichigo-san. We thought we should ask you."

Kenpachi snorted at Hanatarou's attempts for steering around the issue. "The kid's trying ta ask if it's true."

Ichigo immediately attempted to deflect, not particularly wanting to discuss it. "You should know better than to listen to rumors," he stated, fixing them all with a pointed stare.

As always, it didn't work on Zaraki. "Dammit, Ichigo, just tell us yes or no," he shot back.

"Yeah," Ikkaku added, shooting to an upright position and curling his sockless feet towards him, Houzukimaru perched at his side. "You can tell Kuchiki, but you can't tell us."

Immediately, Ichigo felt himself bristling, now sick of the entire thing. "I haven't told Byakuya anything. Or anyone else. There's nothing to talk about!"

"If there ain't anything, then why're you so defensive?" Kenpachi countered.

In the background, Isane and Hanatarou quietly watched, their eyes ping-ponging between the three men.

Ichigo pursed his lips, clamping down on a furious retort. "It's no one's business," he bit out, fingers curling around in his knees in an attempt to hold back.

"Come on, Ichigo. Why'd you put up with it?" Ikkaku posed, ever tactless.

Hanatarou inserted meekly but with courage, jumping to his brother-in-law's defense. "He loves her, Ikkaku-san."

The only voice of reason in an otherwise insane world. Ichigo's affection for the fourth-division vice-captain nearly tripled in that second.

The moment was broken as Kenpachi scoffed. "Love? Makes people fuckin' weak."

"He's right," Ikkaku confirmed. "Ya took down Aizen, but ya let your eighty pound wife whale on you? Makes no fuckin' sense."

Ichigo felt his entire body stiffen.

Isane gasped, her hand pausing mid-air as if planning to strike. But then, she very carefully lowered it behind her back. In any other situation, it would have been comical. Considering the circumstances, it was the worst thing to do. She had wisely caught herself in time, however.

Nostrils flaring and jaw clenching so tightly his mouth ached, Ichigo glared. His eyes flashed with a hint of gold as a trickle of reiatsu escaped. It was tinted with Shirosaki, his desk rattling ominously in response.

"Get out," he demanded, hands curling into fists. But he hesitated, realizing how harshly that had come out. Ichigo forced himself to suck in a breath through the haze of anger filming his vision.

"Please leave," he repeated, faintly more calm.

He wasn't surprised when they made their hasty goodbyes, rising and hurrying from his office. Hanatarou bowed apologetically as Kenpachi shoved Ikkaku out ahead of him.

"Dumbass," Ichigo heard the man say. "I know I taught ya better manners 'n that."

Furiously rubbing his aching forehead, Ichigo rose with the intention of closing his office door. Possibly even bolting it shut. Sealing it with a kidoh spell. Escaping out the back and flashing as far away as possible.

Before he could manage to follow through with his plan, he was thwarted.

"Kurosaki-kun!" echoed throughout the walls of his division.

He was suddenly glomped, given an armful of pregnant Orihime. He would have been shocked if he weren't already used to her random acts of affection, not unusual for anyone, including Kenpachi.

The anger instantly bled out, leaving him incredibly tired. Just over her shoulder, he caught sight of an uncomfortable looking Toushirou and a waving Matsumoto. And glaring at the busty vice-captain was Yumichika, the frosty set to his shoulders nearly cold enough to rival Hitsugaya.

And Ichigo couldn't help but wonder why the person he most wanted to see had yet to make a visit.

"I came as soon as I heard," Orihime wibbled once she pulled her face from the folds of his shihakushou. Her eyes had the distinct sheen of yet to be shed tears.

Damn hormones.

In the background, Toushirou face-palmed, clearly wishing he were somewhere else.

Ichigo really just wanted to curl up and die, right then and there. Bury himself beneath a rock eighty feet down and hide from everyone.

"Everything's fine, Orihime."

She was unconvinced, stolidly embracing him as if he desperately needed her comfort to survive. "You don't look fine," Orihime argued, face pinched with concern.

"She has a point, Kurosaki-taichou," Matsumoto chimed in, only to grow silent when the daggers glared at her from Yumichika lengthened into sharp blades.

Ichigo sighed, wiping a hand down his face. Yes, he was seriously considering that whole "curl up and die" option.

"Oh, no! Do you have a headache?" Orihime questioned, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. "Yumichika-san! He needs some ice!"

"I'll get it!" Matsumoto hurriedly volunteered, scurrying away before Ichigo could protest and leaving her captain behind.

Orihime shook her head. "I'd never have thought Rukia would do such a thing," she murmured, turning that liquidy gaze on him.

Toushirou rolled his eyes, folding his arms as Orihime continued.

"I just don't understand. Maybe she's been abducted by aliens, and they replaced her body with a zombie pod-person. Have you noticed any weird marks?"

"Orihime," Ichigo began with all the patience he had stored in his body, specifically labeled for encounters with the orange-haired woman. "As much as I wish that-- no. No, she has not been abducted by aliens."

As with all things concerning Orihime, it was all beginning to resemble some bizarre sort of play. Only someone had thrown away the script and everyone was left to improvise their lines in a desperate attempt to keep the show going for the crowd.

The woman breathed a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe enough to withdraw from the embrace, one hand raised to her lips. "That's good to hear. But oh! It's still so sad. Maybe you should have another baby. That should make Rukia happy."

He doubted it. In fact, he knew that to be an impossibility. The last time he had touched Rukia like that, they had ended up with twins. All attempts since then had been brushed off with her either too tired or too busy. And then… well, _this_.

"We have four," Ichigo reminded her. "Any more at the moment would be a bit much."

She pursed her lips as she considered this, eyes suddenly brightening with an idea. "If it would help, you could borrow mine! Renji and I can always make more!"

There was a stifled sound coming from both Yumichika and Toushirou, which might have been laughter.

Of course, Orihime completely misinterpreted. "See? Even Toushirou-kun is offering to help!"

The laughter turned to an odd choking sound. But before it could degenerate any further and completely destroy Ichigo's sanity, he felt a rather familiar reiatsu just seconds away. He lifted his gaze to the door of his office, finding Byakuya standing there, surprise barely registering on his face.

"You have visitors?" the older man questioned rhetorically.

"I brought the-- oh! Kuchiki-taichou!" Matsumoto reappeared, only adding to the confusing mélange of events peppering Ichigo's office.

The look Byakuya gave the gossiping woman put Yumichika's icy glare to shame, making it seem hotter than flowing lava. It was all too quickly replaced by confusion as he noticed the ice in her hand.

"Byakuya-san! Did you come to see Ichigo-kun, too? Were you worried?" Orihime asked, her innocent inquiry piercing the air.

Blinking, the sixth-division captain looked past her, locking eyes with Ichigo. "I believe we were going to have lunch, were we not, Ichigo?"

Ichigo immediately jumped on the lie; anything to escape the madness.

"Ah, I had nearly forgotten. I'm sorry, Orihime. I have to be going now."

"You don't need the ice?" Matsumoto asked mischievously.

Orihime sagely nodded. "You should at least take it with you."

"I think I'll be fine," he assured her, already backing towards the door and trying not to look like he was running away.

"We'll talk when you get back then," she put in.

Toushirou coughed.

Yumichika knew that his captain wasn't coming back, at least not today, but he still offered, "I'll keep the office together while you're gone, taichou."

It was said to an empty doorway, Ichigo and Byakuya having already disappeared. Only the faint scent of cherry blossoms now remained.

Huffing, Matsumoto tossed her hair over her shoulder and moved to set the no longer needed ice down on Yumichika's desk.

He glared.

She thought better of it. "Oh. Well, one can never have enough ice. Isn't that right, taichou?" Matsumoto chirped.

Hitsugaya shook his head. "Let's go, Matsumoto."

"Hai," both Orihime and Matsumoto chimed.

* * *

 


	6. Of Goodbye

The restaurant was nestled in an oft-forgotten corner of the fifth district of Rukongai, a small structure tucked away behind several much larger buildings, very unassumingly. Ichigo had been surprised the first time Byakuya had brought him there for lunch that the Kuchiki heir had even known of its existence. He had also been skeptical since the restaurant certainly didn't look as if its food was that particularly tasty.

He was definitely glad that he had been proven wrong.

And since it was so little known, they didn't have to worry about people finding Ichigo there. Carefully masking his reiatsu and the both of them wisely leaving their haori behind pretty much promised anonymity. The waitresses had come to recognize them on sight, without knowing their true identities, and automatically knew which table to give them.

Their usual spot in the corner far from the door and hidden from the rest of the patrons. What few there were. It never seemed particularly busy, which Ichigo found baffling. The mix of Japanese-and-Mexican-and-whatever-else food was the best he had tasted in a long time.

In all honesty, however, he was just glad no one had given them a second glance or a hastily lowered gaze that proved they knew _something._ Here, they knew nothing.

"It's been a while since we've been here," Ichigo commented as he lowered himself to the floor.

"We've had other obligations." Byakuya gracefully slid in beside him, waving away the menu the waitress was offering; they didn't need it by now. "Tea, please."

The pleasant-faced woman turned towards Ichigo. "And you, sir?"

The question gave him pause. He was sorely tempted to order the strongest liquor they had on stock. But he also didn't want to see Byakuya's look of disapproval. He didn't need to get inebriated.

"The same for me."

She bowed her head and walked away, leaving them in a comfortable silence. Ichigo sighed inwardly, glad for the escape this lunch brought him. The edgy, twitchy feeling gradually began to fade. He thankfully knew with Byakuya that if he didn't want to talk about something, he didn't have to.

"I hear there are some promising candidates preparing to graduate from the Academy," Byakuya began slowly, his talent for acquiring normalcy from chaos greatly comforting. "Are you planning on accepting any into your division?"

Ichigo nodded, recalling the few he had in mind. "I've already been by to watch them practice. I think there are a few who would fit in well. You?"

"Perhaps." Byakuya considered. "They show promise, but they are still naïve about the war."

The younger captain snorted disdainfully. "They've been fed a version of the story that they've romanticized. They don't understand the realities, only seeing heroes and villains. As if there ever were such a thing."

Byakuya's lips twitched into a smile. "Everyone wants to be in the fifth division, which the famed Kurosaki-taichou has 'revived from ashes,'" he lightly teased, actually quoting directly from a few Shinigami he had inadvertently overheard.

Brown eyes rolled. "Not to give Aizen credit, but there really wasn't much I had to do when I arrived. They held together on their own," A sudden, sneaky grin took over his lips. "And it's not like they don't flock to your division, too," Ichigo added, changing his voice to an almost mocking tone. "'Oh, Kuchiki-taichou. He's so pretty and rich... and polite.'" Ichigo scoffed at the last bit. "If only they knew."

Byakuya wasn't even offended; he had heard it for decades. "No amount of explanation can dissuade them from that belief," he returned as their waitress appeared, setting their tea in front of them with efficient movements.

She took their order quickly, both of them spouting off the usual spicy combination of foods. She promptly swept away, disappearing as quickly as she had arrived.

Ichigo blew lightly on his tea to cool it, sipping at the hot liquid. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy it. You preen at all the attention."

Byakuya lifted a brow. "I do not preen."

"Yes, you do. And worse, it's rubbed off on Syaoran."

The Kuchiki heir sniffed, finding himself becoming a bit ruffled. "I haven't noticed any such behavior."

This prompted Ichigo to smirk deviously, some of the old Kurosaki gleam in his eyes. "People never recognize their own bad habits."

"Having pride in one's appearance is nothing to be ashamed of," Byakuya countered knowledgeably. "If only the rest of the children could learn as much."

"Pride?" Ichigo repeated, still amused. "Is that what they call it nowadays?" He shook his head, sipping briefly at the green tea. "Between you and Yumichika, most women are put to shame."

Byakuya pursed his lips, if only to hide his smile. "Now, there's no need for jealousy. We can't all be so fortunate."

The smirk deepened. "Gods, you even sound like my vice-captain now. What have you been doing? Making buddies with Yumichika when I'm not looking? Trading hair tips?" he shot back with a pointed look to his companion's always elegantly styled locks.

Ichigo was glad to find himself relaxing, the stress of the day melting away beneath the calm of this casual conversation. He had eased into his seat, no longer stiff and restrained. His knee brushed Byakuya's under the table, but he didn't even bother to pull away. It was no big deal.

He was certainly relieved that the very thing he had been dreading had not been as big of a deal. Everything was perfectly normal with Byakuya and him, despite the knowledge that hung in the air between them like a lingering spirit. He knew that if he never wished to speak about it, then Byakuya would never bring it up. And that knowledge was comforting.

"You are not one to talk," Byakuya reminded him with a pointed look, dropping a sugar cube into his cup. "I remember a certain french-braiding lesson that you requested from Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

Embarrassment showed briefly on Ichigo's face. "Syaoran was persistent."

Byakuya sipped at his drink, reveling in his victory and hiding his amusement behind his cup.

Until Ichigo turned predatory, face sharpening with a sudden recollection. "But don't think I don't know that you learned as well."

"I admit nothing," Byakuya responded, eyes widening marginally.

The look on Ichigo's face was suddenly sly, the most relaxed expression Byakuya had seen on him in recent weeks.

"What next?" the younger man asked in a smug tone. "Are you going to offer to cut her hair with Senbonzakura?"

A chuckle banked behind Byakuya's lips. He was saved from breaking his usual stoic demeanor when the waitress reappeared, arms laden with their order. They were quiet as she set it before them with a smile, deftly managing to not spill a thing.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked sweetly, drawing back with her serving tray pressed demurely to her belly.

"No, thank you," they replied, somehow managing to say it in perfect unison.

Ichigo and Byakuya didn't even exchange a glance of surprise. It wasn't entirely uncommon.

She blinked before bowing. "Very well. Enjoy your meal." Turning away, Ichigo heard her mutter with a sigh, "It's always the good looking ones." She then disappeared towards the kitchen.

He raised a brow but promptly shrugged it off as the aroma of his meal wafted to his nose. He hadn't been hungry all day, and now, he was suddenly ravenous. He picked up his chopsticks.

The two captains began to eat in a quiet silence, the lack of conversation comfortable. Food was a priority first. Ichigo found his thoughts wandering, and he admitted to himself, though with much reluctance, that he owed Byakuya enough to talk about what had happened. After all, the Kuchiki heir was the only one who _hadn't_ demanded that he spill the truth.

He waited until they were halfway through their meal before breaking the silence.

"It wasn't always this way, you know," Ichigo started slowly, hesitantly. "I mean, in the beginning, it was playful. I'm not even sure when it stopped being a game." His fingers tightened around the chopsticks, the wood straining beneath the force of his grip.

Beside him, Byakuya kept his silence, just listening, giving Ichigo room to vent. He liked that about the other captain, not pressing for answers but letting him speak as he found the words. It left him feeling unrestrained, able to breathe.

Relaxing his hands, Ichigo forced himself to continue, "I didn't want anyone to know because it wasn't their business. I really don't see how you figured it out."

In all honesty, Ichigo had been taking deliberate pains to make sure Byakuya never knew. He had thought long and hard about who could have possibly told Rukia's brother and had assumed that it must have been one of the servants. Possibly Nami since she was usually the last one to leave the house for the day.

Byakuya sighed then, interrupting Ichigo's thoughts. "I apologize. However… Kaien came to me."

The younger man blinked, everything inside of him freezing as he turned towards Byakuya. "Kaien?" he repeated, completely stunned.

Inwardly, Byakuya winced, realizing he had inadvertently made the entire situation much worse. "Yes," he confirmed. "I couldn't exactly ignore him."

His food was abruptly abandoned, sitting like lead weights in his stomach. "Dammit," Ichigo breathed, heard pounding painfully in his chest. His head dropped into his hands, fingers gripping at overly long orange strands. "I'm a worse father than Isshin."

More than that, he was a failure as a freaking human being. He couldn't even protect his children. What good was he?

"That is not true," Byakuya stated firmly, horrified that Ichigo would even think such a thing. "No one cares for those children as you do."

Ichigo had no words to offer back. It was going to take more than a simple denial to convince him. He had been accepting of the situation the way it was. He could endure Rukia's distance and her abuse as long as it was himself. But to find out that his children had known, had witnessed, made him feel inordinately sick on his stomach, leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

The Kuchiki heir stared at his meal, knowing that he had to say something but feeling at a loss. He racked his brain, wishing he had the perfectly comforting words, anything to take away the hopeless despair creeping into Ichigo's softly leaking reiatsu.

The sounds of the other patrons in the restaurant trickled in around him, illuminating the lack of conversation between he and Ichigo. Byakuya felt assuredly stumped. Until suddenly, the words came to him, surprisingly easy considering the depths of his soul where he had obtained them.

"We all have weaknesses, things we never want others to know," he said quietly, about to admit something that he had never told anyone, though he was sure that others had guessed. "Mine was Hisana."

Ichigo uncovered his face, looking at Byakuya. _Really_ looking at him. Hisana was an unspoken topic, much like the day Ichigo's mother had died. They were both aware of the events, but they never brought it up, never talked about it. The agreement was entirely unvoiced.

The older captain's eyes were locked on his tea cup. "I know she did not accept my proposal out of love, but I had foolishly believed she might come to do so. Or at least hold some affection for me."

It became Ichigo's turn to simply listen as Byakuya sighed and released his cup, finally realizing he was fidgeting in a very out-of-character action.

"In the end, I was nothing more than a means to a better life... one out of Rukongai."

Byakuya was not revealing the truth about his relationship with Hisana to compare the two sisters. Far from that. It was more of an apology for bringing Ichigo's secret to the attention of all of Seireitei. It seemed fair that he owed Ichigo this much, an exchange of dark truths, which had once been carefully buried.

"I fulfilled Hisana's last wish because of my love for her, but it was… disconcerting to have Rukia in the house when she looked so much like my wife." Byakuya paused, a range of emotions flitting across his face too quick to identify. "Especially when she genuinely seemed to hold a fondness for me and actively sought my approval."

Ichigo mused, turning this information over in his head and understanding it for the apology it was. "I'm not mad, Byakuya," he put in softly. "You didn't have to tell me all that to make me feel better."

"Perhaps. But I wanted to do so."

His gaze returned to the table and his half-eaten meal. "We had another argument last night," Ichigo admitted.

It was easy to infer that there had been some violence involved.

"I suspect she was rather angry with how things went during the day."

"That's putting it lightly." Ichigo's fingers fiddled with the ring on his left hand. "She accused me of blabbing to you." He hesitated, inclining his head. "But of course, I now know the truth."

Byakuya couldn't quite ignore the guilt that shot through him. Rukia hadn't been that far from the truth, only in that it had started thanks to him.

"She said some other things, too," Ichigo continued, his voice confused. "About you and me. But they didn't make any sense at all."

The Kuchiki heir furrowed his brow. "What kind of things?"

Ichigo frowned, fingers still nervously twisting his wedding ring, a habit he had grown into more and more lately. "She said… she said that she sometimes feels like a stand-in."

Byakuya blinked. "What?"

"That was my response!" Ichigo bit out, growing agitated as he angrily raked a hand through his hair again. "I didn't get it either. And she wouldn't explain."

Byakuya was at a loss for words, disbelief clear on his face. "How could she think such a thing?"

"I wish I knew. It just doesn't make any sense." Frustration laced his tone as Ichigo shook his head, fist lightly hitting the table. "None of it makes any sense."

Watching Ichigo slowly breaking at the seams, a part of Byakuya couldn't agree more.

* * *

It was just before sunset when Ichigo made his way home, having never returned to the office. He didn't even want to see who might be waiting for him there. Byakuya walked with him the entire way, considering it just a few streets from the Kuchiki manor. Normally, Ichigo would have invited Byakuya in, perhaps to spend some time with his nieces and nephews.

But his day had been far from normal, and Ichigo didn't bother to make the offer. The last he needed was rumors being spread that he and Byakuya were anything more than friends. Rukia's behavior and accusations were confusing enough.

They parted outside the Kurosaki house with Ichigo heading inside after a brief farewell. Silence greeted his ears as he stepped inside, no one answering his announcement of "Tadaima." Frowning briefly, Ichigo removed his waraji and walked further into the house. The children should have been home.

He passed by the kitchen before he found them, catching sight of all four of his brood outside in the garden through one of the windows. They were under the ever watchful eye of their nanny, Tohru. Relief spread through him, and he relaxed, muscles unconsciously loosening from what was preparing to be a battle position.

Ichigo decided to take advantage of the situation, planning to change clothes and leave Zangetsu in the bedroom before greeting his kids. Feeling incredibly weary and more than through with visitors for the day, Ichigo trudged back towards the bedroom. Even his zanpakutou seemed exhausted, the old man barely thrumming against his back. He winced, realizing that it was probably constantly raining in his inner world right now.

He silently tossed an apology to Zangetsu and Shirosaki both, promising that he would do something about it as soon as he could.

Ichigo had one arm through his haori and was in the process of removing the other when he stepped into his room, only to draw to a complete and utter halt in the doorway. In his distraction, he had entirely missed Rukia's reiatsu in the house. Though admittedly, no one had responded to his earlier call. She had to have heard him.

Even more surprising than the fact she was home early again was what she was in the process of doing.

Packing.

There was a bag on the futon, some clothes lying out beside it along with a few toiletries. Rukia was stepping out of the closet, arms laden down with a small stack of her clothes, some he recognized as dresses from the living world. The severity of the situation became even clearer when he spotted Sode no Shirayuki tucked into her obi when he knew her zanpakutou usually rested on a stand near the door.

"Rukia?"

She pretended as if she didn't hear him, dumping the clothes on the futon. Rukia began to pick them up, one by one, folding each dress or outfit and placing it carefully in her bag.

Ichigo stepped further into the room, succeeding in taking off the last arm from his haori and unconsciously dropping it to the floor behind him. His gaze scoured the bag, finding that it was half-full of everything that she usually deemed important whenever they traveled. A quick glance at her dresser proved that she had packed most of it.

"What are you doing?"

She looked tired, face drawn and pale, dark circles under her eyes. Her lips had pulled into a thin line of stress, shihakushou noticeably rumpled. It occurred to him in that moment that as much as he had suffered today, she must have endured much worse. After all, he was the victim. She was the perpetrator.

He couldn't even imagine what looks she must have been forced to weather or what comments she had heard. The sidelong glances he had quickly learned to hate and the hurriedly dropped eyes. Worse, Ichigo knew she must have had to speak to Yamamoto, just as he had. He wondered if she thought he had spilled everything.

Her response came exhausted, tightly clipped and contained. "What does it look like?"

He watched her movements. "You're leaving."

"You knew it was coming," she responded tiredly, placing more things into her bag. She was definitely packing more than enough for a few days. "And after what happened, I shouldn't stay here."

Ichigo felt as if something inside of him, once drawn immeasurably tight, was snapping in half. "You're giving up," he said, hating that it came out as weak as he suddenly felt.

"No. I'm simply staying somewhere else for awhile," she corrected, crossing the room to the closet and pulling a few more things out before returning to her bag. "Don't put words where I haven't said them."

He blew out a breath of frustration. She was being evasive on purpose.

"And what am I supposed to tell the kids?" her husband asked, struggling to keep his emotions under control. He didn't want it to degenerate into another argument. He needed answers, not more fights.

Rukia's hand stilled in the midst of packing, and he watched her delicate fingers curl around an article of clothing. Her head dropped as she looked down at the bed.

"I'll talk to them," his wife finally answered, forcing herself to continue packing.

He would later to admit to himself that bringing up the children had been an effort to remind her of a reason to stay. She had already been pulling away from him. But he knew she loved their kids.

Even though he wouldn't be forced to explain it to them, that didn't make it any easier. He could imagine their questions now, their worries. When would mother come home? They would ask when they would get to see Rukia again, and he would have to see the disappointment in their eyes when all he could offer them was a vague "soon" or an even worse "I'm sorry."

And that was entirely shoving aside what she was doing to _him_. Dammit, this wasn't what he wanted. If it had been, _he_ would have chosen to leave long ago. He loved Rukia. He didn't want to watch her walk out the house, half her stuff with her, leaving him an empty and cold bed.

His fingers unconsciously curled into fists in an effort to hold himself together. He imagined that his inner world was quite the storm right now, more than torrential rains and booming thunder but also careening lightning and consuming tornadoes. It only accurately displayed half of the emotional turmoil that was raking through his body.

"Aren't you tired of fighting?" Rukia demanded, finally lifting her eyes to look at him. "Of any of it?"

Ichigo gazed at her, taking in the drawn lines and those big blue eyes that were so familiar to him. He didn't even have to think about it.

"I'm not tired of you."

And he wasn't, not in the slightest. He could do without the arguing and the fighting and yes, the abuse. He could do without the stress and her worries and their distance. But he still wanted _her,_ Rukia, the woman he had fallen in love with and married.

Rukia couldn't hold his gaze for long, an expression of hurt painfully flitting across her face before she dropped her eyes. "I think we just need some space. With everything that's going on…" She hesitated, taking a very deep and shuddering breath. He took no consolation in knowing it wasn't any easier on her. "Maybe some distance is best right now."

He bit back the sharp retort wanting to emerge. They already had distance. That wasn't what they needed. But he held it back because that would lead to an argument, and he didn't want that right now.

Ichigo watched as she pulled the last few things off her dresser like her brush and noticed her fingers lingering over a framed picture before she picked that up as well. It was a family portrait, if he remembered accurately. It was a small comfort that it still meant something to her.

All of these items were piled in with the rest of her stuff. The bag was getting noticeably full now, bulging in some places.

"Don't you think it's a bit sudden?" he asked, desperately searching for something to say.

The sound of the latch clicking shut filled the room as she closed up her pack, sliding ties into place and securing her belongings. "This has been a long time coming," Rukia finally answered as she lifted the bag into her hands, the weight momentarily setting her off balance.

She paused, looking once around the room as if making sure she had left nothing of herself behind and headed for the door. She halted before she passed him, staring straight ahead as he watched the spot where she had just been standing.

"You and I both know it, Ichigo," she added, much more quietly than the others.

Even if he had wanted to speak, he couldn't past the lump in his throat.

Rukia said nothing more, and he could only stand by helplessly as she walked out of their room with her belongings in hand. He assumed she was going to speak to the children before she left, but he couldn't get his feet to work and follow her.

They only wanted to lead him to the futon where he sat down, staring blank-eyed at all the empty spots in the room where her stuff had once been.

The ease he had felt from having lunch with Byakuya had disappeared in all but an instant, leaving him knotted up and tangled, everything coiled inside of him. His meal sat like an uncomfortable weight within his belly and churned unpleasantly.

The startling realization that his wife had just left him bounced around crazily inside his head. Ichigo sucked in a shuddery breath and put his head in his hands.

Some hero he was.

* * *

Ichigo kissed Syaoran on the cheek. "Love you, sweetheart. You be good for Jyuu-ojii-san, okay?"

She nodded, grinning happily at the thought of getting to see her favorite grandfather. "Un!" She then leaned in closer to whisper conspiratorially, "I'll even keep an eye on nii-chan for you."

Despite the dead, frozen sensation in his stomach, he managed a smile for his daughter. "You do that. I'm counting on you."

Syaoran beamed at the idea of being relied upon, eyes sparkling happily.

Ichigo turned to his other child, Kaien having worked himself into a fine snit over something his father wasn't quite certain of. He tugged on Kaien's kimono, dragging his son closer to him. The boy pouted but reluctantly moved nearer.

"What?" he muttered sulkily, lips set firmly in a mood.

His father set a hand on his son's head, fingers tangling in the dark hair. "Don't pout the whole time you're at ojii-san's. You know that he takes it personally."

Kaien's eyes shifted away, staring at the polished wooden floor. "I'm not pouting."

Ichigo sighed and rose up from his crouch, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead. "I love you, brat. Try not to be difficult."

The boy grumbled under his breath, but for once didn't try to move away from the affection. Kaien simply shifted from foot to foot and fiddled with his obi.

"I'll try," he grudgingly promised. "But you better be there first thing in the morning."

Ichigo raised a brow at this, surprised by his son's insistence. Usually, he was pretty happy to get to visit other people. The fatherly instinct inside of him niggled in uncertainty, but Ichigo firmly pushed it down. He was no good to his children at this point and needed a moment to recover. He loved them, and right now, he didn't want them to see the state he was in.

"Good." Ichigo rose to his feet, ruffling his son's hair one last time before moving to the twins, who were nestled in Tohru's arms.

They were much easier to say his goodbyes to since they couldn't speak back. He brushed kisses over their foreheads, briefly tickled Mikan causing her to giggle. Ryuu was still sleeping and yawned lazily when he was bothered.

"See you tomorrow, little ones," he murmured over them and then lifted his eyes to Tohru, who was watching him with an odd expression. "You have the list, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, Ichigo-san. Don't worry. They'll be fine."

He couldn't help but worry; he was a father. He inclined his head and opened the door for her as she started to usher his children outside, all of them with their overnight bags.

Cries of "goodbye otou-san" floated back to him as they headed down the front walk. Ichigo watched them until they turned the corner, disappearing from his sight behind a range of buildings. He sighed and closed the door behind him.

Nami and Sanji were already gone. He had dismissed them after breakfast, telling them they wouldn't be needed until tomorrow. Ichigo had figured that if he actually got hungry, which he doubt he would, he could have some ramen. So far, he only planned to drink sake.

Today was Ichigo's day off, and all he wanted to be was alone.

He loved his children dearly, and nothing made him happier than spending time with them. But he also knew that he was in no state to be caring for them at the moment. They would see all too quickly beneath his act of smiles and happiness, especially ever-vigilant Syaoran. And he had already learned thanks to Byakuya that Kaien saw much more than he ever told his father. He wouldn't risk them being inadvertently hurt again, even if it was only emotionally.

The night before had been hard enough, his mask barely lasting long enough to get his children in bed before it crumbled.

Both Syaoran and Kaien had been worried about their mother, relaying the bullshit excuse she had given them to him. He had done his best to reassure them, despite the fact he was uncertain in his own heart. He didn't know what to say. Was Rukia coming back? He didn't know. He couldn't lie, but he couldn't tell any truth; Ichigo was effectively fucked.

He had dredged up a smile for them as he went about their nightly rituals. Dinner, bath, reading, it was all so common to him now. He had already been trained to it by himself so it _almost_ felt like nothing had changed. Except for the hollow feeling that now resided in his chest.

Once they were asleep, the silence struck him, the house settling, quiet and still. It was so loud, pulsing in his ears and reminding him of the emptiness of his bedroom. He had grabbed Zangetsu in a fit of desperation and went outside, spending the next three hours mediating and training, though he couldn't do much but swing his zanpakutou around. If he hadn't had the kids, he would have already gone to Urahara's hidden training grounds and blasted off some steam. But he refused to leave his children alone.

At some point, he had stumbled inside and collapsed tiredly on the futon, falling into an uneasy sleep, riddled with half-dreams and half-memories.

When morning came, he woke feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. That didn't stop Kaien from jumping on him first thing, making him realize he had somehow slept past his alarm. Either that or he hadn't set it. He couldn't quite remember.

He made the decision then and there, feeling the roiling and tossing of his emotions, that it was probably best if he had the children stay with someone else for the evening. He first sent a Hell Butterfly to Izuru, knowing that he couldn't send one to Jyuushiro for rather obvious reasons. Besides, having them stay with Izuru was the same as having them stay with the white-haired man anyway. They all knew that.

By the time he had the kids dressed and fed, Ichigo had received a response; Izuru was more than happy to take them. He had delivered the news, causing excitement in Syaoran and her brother. It hadn't been until after he had packed their overnight bags and Tohru came to pick them up that Kaien started sulking. It was something Ichigo planned on addressing when he could think more clearly.

He had given Tohru a list of places she could take the children before finally leaving them with Izuru, as well as a pouch of money. The park. For ice cream. Several divisions excluding the thirteenth because he couldn't afford for them to see their mother when she was supposed to be "out-of-town." The nanny had nodded in understanding, never asking a single question.

Relief still flooded through him.

So long as his children were taken care of, then he could fall apart safely. He could let go, let everything that had happened to him in the past two days wash over him in crashing waves, eating away at his resolve.

He just had to make sure he had his moment of self-destruction alone.

The house was silent as he wandered through it, bare feet shuffling across the wooden floor and the swishes echoing around him.

His mind was both blank and scattered between a thousand thoughts. Ichigo carefully avoided the bedroom and settled for the garden, propped up on the porch with a sake bottle in hand.

Ichigo deftly pulled out a sake cup and set it before him, pouring his first drink of the day.

He wanted to forget, it only for a little while.

* * *

It was lunchtime when he received his first uninvited guest. Ichigo hadn't moved from the spot he'd taken that morning.

"Yo, Ichigo!"

Stirring at the unexpected voice, Ichigo turned to see Renji stepping out onto his porch, hand raised into the air in greeting. He had been so out of it, though not yet inebriated, he hadn't even felt the man's reiatsu. Either that or Renji had been hiding himself to make a sneak attack.

Ichigo turned back to the garden. "Don't you have to work today?"

"Aren't we a cheery one?" Renji countered, plopping down beside the other man with a weary sigh. "Where're the kids?"

Sake was drunk quickly, pouring easily across his tongue. This bottle was almost beyond tasting.

"With Tohru. They're staying at Jyuushiro's tonight," Ichigo answered, gaze tracing the lines of his garden. Nothing had changed in the last few hours. Not that he had expected it to.

He could feel Renji's eyes on him, watching his every movement. "How long have ya been at this?" he demanded, gesturing towards the bottle.

Ichigo shrugged, pouring another cup. "Long enough and maybe a bit more."

The admission sunk between them like a rock in the sea, and Renji sighed internally. He knew better than to order Ichigo to stop. Instead, he cast about for something to say, watching as his friend steadily sucked down more of his sake as if it were the only thing he needed to live.

Seconds ticked by and with all his words jumbled up inside of him, the seventh-division captain erupted. "I don't know what ta say about this," he blurted, hands rubbing over his hakama. He was utterly torn between his friends.

Ichigo contemplated playing dumb, as if he had no idea what Renji was talking about. Ironically, however, that ploy wouldn't work on the redhead.

"I mean, it's Rukia. She's like my sister. And you… you're like a brother. Someone I'll tolerate now. And it's this… it's… _Guh_!" Renji trailed off with a splutter, words entirely failing him. He had never been the most eloquent, but now, he was completely lost.

"Yeah," Ichigo muttered, swishing the alcohol in his cup and staring into it. "It's exactly that."

Renji raked a hand through his hair, tugging at the ponytail in one of his many aggravated habits. "I mean, how long's this been goin' on?"

"From the beginning. Mostly," Ichigo responded, bare toes kicking out at the grass beneath his feet. "You should remember, you were there. Hell, you agreed I was an idiot."

The other captain snorted. "You're still an idiot. But that doesn't mean she should smack ya around."

Ichigo swiveled his head, pinning his friend with a glare. "Don't make me sound like a battered wife! It's not like it actually hurts or anything." He scoffed pointedly. "Compared to you slashing me up and Byakuya skewering me with kidoh, it's nothing."

"That's different," Renji argued. "We were enemies at the time. Rukia's yer _wife._ "

Bristling defensively, Ichigo straightened. "It's not her fault alone," he argued stubbornly, knowing he was going to face this discussion sooner or later. "Don't place all the blame on her."

Renji looked at him as if he were nothing more than a fool. "And what'd ya do that deserved it? Bein' made captain before she was promoted ta vice-captain? Cause that's on Ukitake and the old man."

Ichigo remained silent.

Pursing his lips, Renji went on, "Is it cause you're a Vizard? The rest of us don't even care 'bout that." He shook his head. "Tell me, Ichigo. What do ya think you've done? It's not like you'd ever cheat on her or anythin'. Not fer any reason."

At Renji's words, Ichigo stiffened, remembering Rukia's argument about Byakuya. Not that he would mention that to the redhead. He couldn't shake her accusation, especially since it made so little sense.

"It's not any of that," Ichigo bit out. "And it's not that I think I deserve it either. I just… We…"

He had no explanations, no excuses. He had known that before Renji even opened his mouth. Ichigo thinned his lips, taking another drink, and the sake sloshed dangerously low.

"You were the one who said she's always been like this," Ichigo muttered.

Renji twisted his jaw. "That was just play, just games! When we were kids."

"Exactly." Ichigo's voice softened, growing rougher in its quiet. "That's how it started, and then… somehow… I don't know. Somehow, it became this." One hand idly fiddled with his ring, turning it around and around on his finger.

Did it mean anything anymore, now that she had left him?

"Ya couldn't tell her no? Or ta stop?"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo sneered. "And what? Hit her back?"

"Yes!" Renji cursed under his breath. "I mean, no! No, Ichigo. Dumbass. Somethin' else."

The younger man gestured sharply towards the garden. "Like what?" he demanded, finding his limited patience running out of its short supply. "Run crying to Isshin because my wife picks on me?"

Scarlet eyes glared at him as Renji bit back a nasty retort. "Ya could've said something ta us. Ta me."

Ichigo scowled, shaking his sake bottle and mourning the fact that he'd have to go get another. "And what would you've done?"

Renji knew he had been backed into the corner, just as much as he knew there really was nothing he could've done. He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"At least tell me she doesn't hit the kids."

Ichigo froze, bowl midway to his lips, as the irritation turned to full-blown fury. "You think I'd put up with that shit?" he hissed, fingers cracking around his bowl. "I'm not stupid!"

"Ya put up with a hell of a lot else."

"Not when it concerns my children!" Ichigo practically shouted, face stormy and drawn tight, eyes flashing gold.

Renji shook his head forcefully. "S'not like ya were always home. Somethin' could've happened, and ya wouldn't have known."

"Clearly your damned worry has made you more of an idiot than usual," Ichigo snarled, resisting the urge to chuck the nearly empty jug at his friend's head. "Don't accuse my _wife_ – your _sister –_ of that. If you're stupid enough to think that of Rukia, then you need to leave. Right now."

He wouldn't allow _anyone_ to make these inquiries into his life, to ask these questions they had no business asking. Insinuating things that simply hadn't happened. Renji was on the verge of finding the sharp end of Zangetsu, slightly inebriated or not.

The redhead sucked in a breath, but instead of arguing, he forced out calm. "Fine." Renji rose to his feet, striding towards the door. "We'll talk when yer sober."

As he moved to enter the house again to leave, Ichigo rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his sake. "Yeah, I'm lookin' forward to it," he muttered under his breath, a scowl painting his lips. "Bastard."

* * *

 


	7. Implications

Byakuya glared at the captain sitting across from him, hoping the full-force of his irritation would be enough to drive the man away. "I don't remember us making plans for lunch, Zaraki-taichou."

Snorting, Zaraki ignored his attempts and made himself comfortable anyways. "Che. You know you've missed me, hime."

Even after all these years, he still couldn't get the insufferable man to stop referring to him by that ridiculous nickname. "Hardly." Byakuya sniffed, shifting behind his desk. "Seeing you at the captain's meeting is more than enough."

The other Shinigami snorted, rolling his eye. "I'm surprised ya even noticed I was there," he muttered under his breath, as if the one of the tallest men in the Gotei 13 was that hard to miss.

The comment was odd enough that it made Byakuya pause. "I'm not sure what you mean," he stated slowly, his initial urge to throw Zaraki out completely halted. Despite himself, he was curious.

Zaraki blinked. "Fuck, ya are oblivious," he grunted, though he didn't sound too surprised. "Thought maybe it was an act or somethin'."

Genuine confusion flooded the Kuchiki heir. "An act?" he repeated, inclining his head. "What are you blathering on about, Zaraki? I'm too busy to listen to your nonsense. Find Kyouraku if you want to drunkenly babble."

The eleventh-division captain snorted. "He was one of the first ones to notice."

Byakuya was beginning to feel at his wit's end, Zaraki clearly having taken leave of what few senses he held. Nothing the man was saying made sense, nor was he taking any pains to clarify. This, he reminded himself, was a good reason to keep avoiding conversations with Zaraki as he had in the past. Yet, he still desired clarification.

"Notice what?" Byakuya demanded, tone becoming even frostier. He was two steps away from forgetting the entire thing and throwing the intruder out.

"Man. Didn't think I'd have to be the one to tell ya this. Ruins my image. Are ya sure ya don't wanna talk to Ukitake about it?" Zaraki countered, grinning ferally as he propped his chin on his palm. "I'm sure he could explain it in small words."

It was always amusing to goad the Kuchiki princess. He reacted so predictably, bristling with that stoic face pulling into a bare expression of irritation.

The scent of cherry blossoms, once a subtle incense, grew stronger in the room as Byakuya sucked in an aggravated breath. He forcefully reminded himself that he was _above_ attacking Zaraki out of sheer annoyance.

"Either explain or leave," he declared crisply, lips thinning. "I would prefer the latter."

Unfortunately, Zaraki did neither. He simply looked at Byakuya, teasing grin fading until he was left serious and somber. The intent gaze was almost frightening in its gravity and magnitude, briefly taking Byakuya aback.

"Have ya ever wondered?" Zaraki asked, drawing away from his mocking position and pulling into his usual half-contained sprawl.

The sedate inquiry was far from what Byakuya had expected.

"Wondered?" he repeated.

"If Ichigo hadn't married Rukia, what woulda happened?" the other man continued, pressing the issue further and explaining little by little. "If they hadn'ta been pushed together."

On the verge of an annoyed rebuke, the casual question gave Byakuya pause. His eyes shifted to the side as the words washed over him, and he mused internally. Had he wondered? Had he ever really thought about it?

Certainly not when he knew their feelings for each other. Love had never been a missing factor. Perhaps their friends had not-so-gently encouraged both of the stubborn fools to admit their feelings, but the marriage hadn't been contrived. The emotions _were_ honest, and Byakuya knew that Ichigo had genuinely wanted to marry Rukia. Otherwise, he never would have allowed it.

Had he ever considered either of them marrying anyone else? Honestly?

Byakuya couldn't say for certain that the thought had _never_ crossed his mind, but he couldn't find good reason for the question to be brought up either. The couple had only ever seemed happy with their lives, totally in love. There was no reason to doubt.

Zaraki continued, despite Byakuya's thoughts, "Well, she wasn't the only one he was in love with back then."

Grey eyes lifted in surprise, though his mind continued to churn. "If you are referring to Abarai Orihime, I know for a fact he never felt that way for her," Byakuya countered, certain that could be the only possible conclusion Zaraki could have drawn.

His companion shook his head. "Hell, I knew that much for myself." One hand lifted to tug at the band connected to his eyepatch, as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. "You're missin' the entire damn point, hime."

Byakuya shifted in his seat, momentarily ignoring his irritation with the nickname. "Well, who else was there?" he insisted, wondering why he was asking _Zaraki Kenpachi_ this sort of question about Ichigo's love life.

It was none of their business. Yet, the curiosity niggled at him. It was the sort of thing that shouldn't matter to him but still somehow wormed its way into his thought process. It was all Zaraki's fault.

Annoyed with himself, Byakuya added, "I can't honestly think of Ichigo showing an interest in anyone else, not when it was so clear that he is devoted to Rukia and their children."

"He's shown plenty of interest, ya blind idiot," Zaraki scoffed impatiently, his leaking reiatsu getting a bit ruffled around the edges.

Byakuya remained unperturbed in the face of it, already used to Zaraki's sometimes overwhelming presence. "I've seen no indication--"

"Dammit, it's you!" the other captain finally exploded, pinning Byakuya down with a stare as he abandoned all attempts at beating around the bush. It was time he just started slashing shit down. "And you're in love with him."

Stunned into silence, the Kuchiki heir could only sit and stare blankly. His mouth opened to form words, but they refused to push past his lips.

What in… hell? It was improbable. It was impossible. Zaraki was out of his goddamned mind to even think such a thing.

Byakuya was floored, his carefully crafted masquerade crumbling around him as the words bounced around his skull. They shoved against each other in a disordered mess, grating and rumbling like Zaraki's voice. He knew he needed to say something to refute this utter madness. He should say something. But it all tangled up on his tongue, coming so quickly that he couldn't make sense of it.

What? How? _Why_?

The man must be crazy, had taken complete leave of what little senses he had left. Maybe he had gotten drunk and hit his head too hard. Killed what few brain cells he possessed.

The proclamation repeated itself. _What in hell?_

And his heart beat a faster rhythm as he swallowed thickly, fingers of one hand curling against his desk. It was completely impossible.

Zaraki studied him, taking some glee in watching the uptight man's mask collapse. "It's always been that way," he pressed, knowing that there was no way to stop the ball from rolling now. "Even when he was fightin' his way through Seireitei, his thoughts were to get strong enough to face _you_."

"He was fighting to protect Rukia," Byakuya insisted thinly, growing increasingly irritated by Zaraki's continued presence. Honestly, the man had no right to barge in, only to say such nonsense. "I hardly think that's indicative of his so-called affections for me."

The look he was giving in return was complete disbelief as Zaraki stared. "Do ya need me ta spell it out for ya?"

Byakuya sniffed. "Will it get you out of my office sooner?" he responded, reiatsu pulsing in response to his suddenly scattered thoughts.

His unwanted visitor huffed. "Ain't no use in hidin' it, Kuchiki. Everyone knows. It's the worst kept secret in all of Seireitei. A lot like Urahara and that bastard Aizen."

Tired of hearing Zaraki's babble, Byakuya turned his head, focusing instead on the wall scroll to his left. "You have five seconds."

Zaraki made no inclination to move, totally unperturbed by Byakuya's increased frostiness and disdain. "Ya ain't even noticed that you're the one that's married to him and not your sister. The only ones who can't see it are you two."

"Impossible." Byakuya sniffed.

"Then, who decided that the kids would have tutors?" Zaraki threw out, wondering if all of his evidence would break down that damn noble pride. "Who pays for them?"

Despite being surprised that Zaraki would know that information, Byakuya already had an answer. "It was a mutual decision."

"Between you and Ichigo," the other man shot back smugly. "And ya have lunch with him all the time, enough that people expect it."

The Kuchiki heir glowered, returning his gaze to his companion. "He's my brother-in-law and a fellow captain, not to mention our divisions are neighboring. It is only logical."

"And Renji was your lieutenant, but how often do ya go visitin' the seventh?" Zaraki shifted position, drawing in his legs to cross them as he watched Byakuya squirm. "Ya plan things for his kids together, like that brat's birthday party last year. And wifey didn't have to lift a finger. Hell, ya spend more time with Ichigo than she does."

The truth of those words did nothing to unsettle Byakuya. "Rukia is very busy right now. I was helping out as a brother should," he said through gritted teeth, wanting to demand Zaraki to start making some goddamned sense.

Zaraki gave him a look that could only be described as both skeptical and vaguely amused, but only because of the sheer patheticness of Byakuya's rebuttal. "Tell me, Kuchiki. How does it feel livin' in such denial? Don't ya ever get tired of it?"

Stiffening, the Kuchiki heir drew up straight, having had enough of this conversation. "There is nothing to deny. Ichigo and I are _friends_ , brothers-in-law. Nothing more. We've never been anything more."

He found himself becoming frantic, of all the strange emotions to attack him. His voice actually rose without his consent. This was something he had never dealt with before, and Byakuya fought with himself to stave off the unnecessary feelings.

Zaraki, however, sensed he was winning. The denials were stacking up as quickly as he could give the evidence. Byakuya was tottering, clearly at too much of a loss to put up a good defense.

"But you wanted it to be," he put in earnestly. "Since before he was married. Shit, before ya even took down Aizen together."

His eyes fell back to his desk, and it bothered Byakuya that he couldn't keep looking at Zaraki. But it felt as if the other captain were accusing him. Knowledge kept glinting in that dark eye, Zaraki's words like teasing, though his lips were devoid of his usual smirk.

"Hell," the other man blithely continued, "the only reason I've stayed awake in meetings is cause I've been watchin' you two stare moony-eyed at each other like a pair of lovesick fools. Even if ya don't know yer doin' it."

Byakuya shook his head, desperately trying to keep his grip on some sort of normalcy. "You're imagining things. If this is your idea of a joke--"

"We all know," Zaraki casually interrupted, as if he hadn't been speaking at all. "We can all see it. Everyone but you two. And I think Rukia's known from the start. I never could understand why she married him."

It was then that Zaraki chose to stand, having finished what he came to say. He looked down at the stunned man sitting at his desk, even as Byakuya returned his stare.

"He loves her," the Kuchiki heir said firmly, that one statement all he needed to refute everything that Zaraki had so callously thrown at him.

Zaraki didn't even blink. "But he loves you more," he countered, turning on his heels and leaving without another word.

Byakuya could only stare at his departing form, absolutely speechless.

* * *

It was late, the sun already setting and casting a deep orange and scarlet hue over the sky. Most had gone home some time ago, leaving very few still in the divisions, except for those on night duty. He, however, lingered long after everyone in the sixth had departed, including his new vice-captain, Rikichi. Zaraki's words echoed in his mind, over and over, ringing in his ears and sounding too final to be false.

It was not some joke, not even Zaraki would go that far. The man honestly believed that Byakuya felt something for Ichigo and vice versa. The Kuchiki heir was even more certain that Zaraki had been struck one too many times in battle. Perhaps that injury from the war had been deeper than they all thought.

After debating internally on Zaraki's accusations for the rest of the day, Byakuya eventually left. His feet carried him, seemingly without his knowledge to Ichigo's home. He had every intention of telling the man about Zaraki's nonsense, about the absurd thing the man had said. Honestly, there was no possibility it could be true. Perhaps Ichigo would know what had sent Zaraki off the deep end. And that was what found him standing outside a deathly quiet house, worry starting to creep into his belly.

Byakuya had far too many manners to enter someone's home without their permission or an invitation. But repeated attempts at knocking had proved fruitless. He knew Ichigo was there, could feel the other captain's reiatsu. It was unsteady and riddled with depression, but it was there. And it was worrisome that he wouldn't answer the door.

It was understood that Byakuya had a standing invitation into the Kurosaki house at any time, but considering the current situation, he didn't think it would be best to walk in without acknowledgment. Yet, the fact that there was no answer and Ichigo's was the _only_ reiatsu he could feel had him tossing aside his manners.

He pushed open the door, the stillness of the house slapping him full in the face. Carefully removing his waraji, Byakuya stepped further inside, ears straining for some sign of life. Most of the lights were off, only a scant few on here and there.

"Ichigo?"

No one answered his query.

Steeling himself, Byakuya headed down the hall, glancing into each room as he passed. He found nothing in the front room or the kitchen, both as silent and dark as a crypt. Just as he was preparing to pass the dining room, his feet skittered across an object on the floor. It tumbled and rolled away as he cursed under his breath, willing his eyes to adjust to the dim faster. He followed the sound of the item and found it nestled against the wall a few steps away, tucked next to another just like it.

A sake jug. An _empty_ sake jug.

It was rather easy to tell in that moment that things were far from well in the Kurosaki home.

Sighing, Byakuya lifted his gaze and traced the hallway stretched out in front of him, finding several more of the jugs littering the floor. They were an awkward, stilted trail leading towards the back of the house. Almost like bread crumbs for him to follow.

More careful of his footing this time, he continued in his search, passing various rooms until he was faced with the sliding door to the back garden. There was nowhere else to look. Steeling himself, he quietly slid the door open and stepped out onto the porch.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust yet again, and he just barely missed tripping on another two jugs, sheer reflexes saving him from a fall. Frowning, Byakuya closed the door behind him and swept his gaze around.

He found Ichigo almost immediately.

The younger captain was lying on his back, legs hanging over the edge of the porch, and body loosely wrapped in a dark blue yukata that Byakuya remembered buying for him one birthday. One arm was slung over his face, the other stretched out to his side, curled fingers barely brushing the neck of a sake bottle. More empty jugs were set up around him like clay and porcelain soldiers, making Byakuya wonder if there was anything left in the Kurosaki household that even vaguely resembled alcohol.

In that moment, Ichigo eerily resembled Kyouraku Shunsui, and the comparison disturbed Byakuya more than he would ever admit.

He stepped further onto the porch, standing next to Ichigo's prone form. He assumed that his brother-in-law was asleep since he could still feel his reiatsu, thrumming high with depression and despair but still strong and alive.

Byakuya moved to kneel, one hand reaching out to check.

"I'm not dead."

The sudden statement stopped him in his tracks. "I did not think that you were," he replied evenly, relief spreading through him that Ichigo was at least conscious enough to talk. "However, given your current environment, I thought that perhaps you required assistance."

Ichigo's arm slid away from covering his face to balance on his forehead, pushing orange strands upwards. "Don't worry, Byakushi," he slurred, looking up at him with bleary, obviously inebriated vision. "Everything's just fiiiine."

The Kuchiki heir was far from convinced. He straightened, looking down at the younger man.

"What have you eaten today?" he demanded, using his captain's tone.

Ichigo pursed his lips. "I had some sake for breakfast. And then, some sake for lunch." He paused, brow furrowing as he thought particularly hard. "And I was plannin' on havin' some sake for dinner. Ya know, the good stuff that Shunsui gave me for Tanabata."

"Are you turning into Kyouraku Shunsui now?" Byakuya asked, sarcasm successfully masking his concern. "What next? A hat and pink haori?"

The watery glare Ichigo shot at him was far from terrifying, almost comical in his attempts to scrunch his face into indignation. "I've better taste than that, Byakushi. Mine would be green," he added mordantly. "And I'd steal Urahara's hat. Then, I'd match." His outstretched hand motioned drunkenly before flopping back to the porch.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. "Even Renji dresses better than that."

A snort-laugh slipped from Ichigo's lips, a rather drunken sound. "Have a seat, Byakushi. Have a drink." He turned his head, frowning at the bottle nearest to his hand. "But not this one. S'empty."

"I think they are all empty," Byakuya retorted, looking around pointedly. He didn't dare count. He didn't want to know just how much Ichigo had consumed. Honestly, part of him was actually surprised to find the man conscious.

Ichigo merely blinked at him and after some effort abruptly sat up. He wavered, mind likely spinning, before rising unsteadily to his feet. Ichigo swayed. Byakuya reached out to secure him, but his aid was unnecessary. The other captain remained on his feet, somehow finding his balance.

"There's more in the kitchen," Ichigo mumbled, absentmindedly fixing his yukata where it had slipped and revealed one bronzed shoulder.

The color really was good for him, a perfect contrast to his skin tone, Byakuya grudgingly admitted to himself. And he watched as Ichigo turned, climbing back onto the porch from where he had risen on the grass, and stumbled in a somewhat graceful fashion towards the sliding door.

"I'll be right back, Byakushi," he called over his shoulder, fingers fumbling before managing to successfully slide the door open.

In his state, there was no way Byakuya was going to let the drunken man wander around by himself. He gingerly stepped over several empty sake jugs and followed after Ichigo, the other captain slowly and unsteadily making his way down the hallway. One hand occasionally slapped against the wall for support.

"Damn reiatsu burns away the effects," Ichigo mumbled, foot kicking out a jug as he gestured towards the empty bottle. "I needed to drink more just to… just… just to feel it. Not that I really wanted to _feel_ anything."

Byakuya felt his insides clench at the utterly broken note in Ichigo's voice. It simply didn't fit him.

"Ichigo, I don't believe this is the solution--"

"She's gone," the younger man blurted out before he could finish, effectively cutting him off.

The Kuchiki heir blinked, taken aback by the sudden exclamation. "What?"

"Rukia. She left last night. Took her clothes with her." Ichigo paused by the doorway to Syaoran's room, peering into the depths as if he wasn't certain where he was supposed to be going or why.

He had already done that at the bathroom and Kaien's room as well. It hadn't taken Byakuya long to realize that they were simply meandering, as if Ichigo were lost.

He was struck with a sudden understanding, and in that moment, his sympathy for Ukitake Jyuushiro increased tenfold. This was what it felt like to follow a drunken friend around, making sure they did not kill themselves by inadvertently falling down stairs or drowning in their own vomit. He never expected to find himself in such a situation, and he mentally apologized for every unkind rebuke he had ever said to Ukitake about Kyouraku.

"I don't blame her though," Ichigo continued, his voice echoing forlornly in the house as he hesitated in front of the kitchen and peered in. "I don't blame her for anything. S'my fault, too."

Confusion furrowed his brow as he stopped just inside the doorway, one hand on the frame. Brown eyes swept around the kitchen unsteadily, and Byakuya could make out a few more sake jugs on the center island within.

"Perhaps you should," the older man suggested quietly.

Ichigo's back was to him, drawn tight with tension as his fingers tightened on the doorframe. "You don't understand," he countered.

"Then explain it to me."

"Doesn't matter. She's still gone." He shook his head, letting out a drunken, morose laugh that was anything but amused. "I'll bet she had a shittier day than I did."

His words faltered as he looked unsteadily into the kitchen once last time before turning back towards the hallway. His eyes stared forlornly into the dim lighting of the corridor, shuffling unsteadily into the middle.

"I just want it all to go away," he whispered, the thumb of his left hand rubbing against the metal of his wedding ring. "The stares and the whispers and the looks. I'm fuckin' sick of it all."

Byakuya could only watch as Ichigo drew deeper into his despair, heightened by the alcohol coursing through his system. He wished he had the words to say, but his usual eloquence failed him.

Ichigo shifted, sagging against the wall opposite the kitchen door, his eyes filled with misery. "I wouldn't ever hurt her," he muttered sluggishly, as if repeating some internal conversation. "And now, everyone knows. Everyone's lookin' at me. 'That's the captain who lets his wife beat on him.' They pity me, and I hate it." His voice cracked, and he sucked in a shuddery breath. "I _hate_ it."

"It's not pity for everyone," Byakuya interjected, hands hanging loosely at his sides.

Watery brown eyes lifted up to him, chapped lips cracking into the faintest hint of a smile. "Yeah, I like ya, too, Byakushi."

Zaraki whispered in the back of his head when that smile warmed something inside of him. ' _But he loves you more_ ,' the crazed man insisted, his voice cackling evilly.

Byakuya very calmly and firmly told him to shut up.

"You're about the only one who's normal," Ichigo added, half-heartedly plucking at his yukata where it was gaping slightly. His obi was loosening from his movements, making his efforts nearly useless. "Even my Hollow and Zangetsu're off. Shirosaki's disgusted, and ossan just keeps givin' me sad eyes."

"They are a part of you," Byakuya interjected quietly. "Their pain reflects yours."

Ichigo nodded, his head knocking briefly against the wall behind him. "I'll bet it's rainin' pretty hard. Shirosaki must be pissed. Heh, pale bastard." There was still a note of fondness in his tone, Ichigo and his Hollow having long since reconciled.

It took a moment for Byakuya to understand the weather reference, until he remembered its connection with Ichigo's inner world. He imagined it probably was raining with Ichigo in this state.

"I actually let Shirosaki out for a second when I was talkin' to Kaku earlier," Ichigo continued, standing up straight or at least trying to. "Damn bastard doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

 _Kaku?_ Ah, Madarame.

"Thought Hime was gonna cry on me. And then, there was ice and aliens, but I'm not sure how that all fits together." Ichigo frowned, looking genuinely confused as his tone turned dark and somber. "Really not sure at all."

With Orihime in the equation, confusion was only to be expected.

Ichigo chose that moment to step forward, but the movement was the most unsteady he had made so far. He wobbled towards Byakuya, and the older captain automatically moved to catch him, unwilling to watch his friend fall face down. He grasped Ichigo by the arms, but that hadn't been the other man's real intention.

A forehead landed against Byakuya's right collarbone as Ichigo slumped, the tips of orange spikes brushing under the Kuchiki heir's chin. Byakuya stiffened but didn't let go of his hold on Ichigo's arms, just in case he wasn't stable enough to stand on his own.

Ichigo was utterly quiet, a loud and miserable sigh whispering broken across his lips. "What am I going to do, Byakushi?"

Byakuya didn't have answer, though he wished heartily that he did. Comforting was more Jyuushiro's forte or Orihime's. He had only half-formed words and silence to offer. He was no good at situations like this. Yet, he couldn't believe for a single second that Ichigo would want either of the other two to see him like this.

Closing his eyes at his own uselessness, Byakuya could only suggest, "Let's get you to bed."

"Don't want to," Ichigo muttered, sounding just like his son in his petulance. "S'empty."

But Byakuya was already leading him down the hallway, Ichigo nearly boneless next to him. He slumped against the Kuchiki heir's side as if needing Byakuya to simply stand, almost dead weight.

He tried to ignore the tug inside of him at Ichigo's admission. While he couldn't quite understand that pain, he did at least sympathize with feeling loss. Even if he couldn't find the right words of consolation. They had never worked with him anyway. He doubted they would work for Ichigo.

Byakuya wasn't entirely sure how he managed to get Ichigo into his bed and beneath the covers, but somehow, he was successful. He even wrangled his brother-in-law onto his side, just in case.

Ichigo barely stirred, floating in and out of consciousness as he succumbed to the pull of the sake. However, he twitched as the blanket was pulled up and the pillow shifted beneath his head.

"Byakuya…"

But before he could finish whatever he had meant to say, the words trailed off into an evened breathing sigh.

Grey eyes watched him a minute more, just in case Ichigo bolted awake in sudden surprise. Byakuya exhaled when he realized Ichigo was officially down for the night and rose to his feet, looking around him.

He had a lot of work to do before the morning.

* * *

"Uhnnnnn."

The groan pierced the empty silence of the bedroom, soft and barely emerging from a parched, dry mouth.

Ichigo came into consciousness very, very slowly, every one of his senses taking their damn time in returning one by one. He was numb all over, limbs refusing to respond to his commands, not that he dared try moving. His mouth was sandpaper, tongue limp against his cheek, and his eyes were glued shut.

He stirred against the covers, awake in a world of darkness as the dull throbbing of his head quickly became a loud roar with increasing consciousness. It was like ten-thousand Grimmjows were knocking down buildings in his head, pounding so loudly he could practically hear his every thought screeching around.

He had never felt so poorly in his entire life, the sudden desire to die coursing through him. Not even when he was stabbed, slashed, bleeding and near death had he been in this much agony. The last of which was looking rather appealing at the moment.

He couldn't remember anything, his name the only knowledge he was certain he possessed. Everything on him ached. Even his hair and the tips of his fingernails. His stomach churned very unpleasantly, whatever sloshed around inside contemplating making a violent escape from his mouth.

What in hell had he done to himself? Did anyone get the name of the Espada that had stomped up and down on his head?

On the very, very edge of his conscious, Ichigo dimly registered a faint rapping sound. Like someone knocking. Possibly on his front door.

He contemplated ignoring the visitor but had the feeling they would be very persistent. He groaned under his breath and slowly tried to move, limbs creaking as he forced them into obeying his commands. His eyes still wouldn't open, so he was crawling blind. But that had never stopped him before.

Ichigo inched out from beneath the covers, towards the direction that might have been the door. He heard the knocking again as he moved, inch by slow fucking inch, inwardly vowing that he was never going to do something so stupid as drinking his weight in sake again.

It barely felt like he was moving. Ichigo thought he might have fallen asleep again and jerked, the appearance of what sounded like thunder crashing down his hallway. Of course, it was only footsteps, but to his ears and pounding head, it sounded like a herd of rampaging Academy students.

He twitched, realizing that he was still partially in the bed. Clarity only vaguely dawned in his brain.

The knocker had apparently taken it upon himself to enter the house. The floor vibrated as his visitor drew closer, standing right next to his prone form. He heard a faint sigh and then a voice came down from above him, as if it were descending from heaven. It was the King of Soul Society or possibly even Kami-sama.

Ichigo was too far gone to consider reality.

"Ichigo-san?"

Somehow, he thought he might recognize Kami-sama. The voice was so familiar, tantalizingly so. Like he had known Kami-sama in a past life.

Kami-sama questioned him again.

"Ichigo-san?"

He had every intention of saying something clever like "I'm not dead" or "Yes, Kami-sama? How may I serve you?"

But all that came out was a very pathetic, "Uhnnnnnnn."

Kami-sama sighed again. "I have my work cut out for me."

The next Ichigo knew, the king must have been casting magic over him because the pain was very slowly receding, leaving him incredibly tired. He felt heat and pressure and blessed relief coursing through him. It was as if he were surrounded by a divine radiance.

His senses gradually returned one by one. He could smell again. He could taste again, though he really wished he couldn't. The dry, papery feeling to his leaden tongue was not something that should have a flavor. His legs _were_ there, contrary to initial belief, and the headache was slowly easing. It was still throbbing, but it was less Grimmjow smashing and more hammer pounding.

It took several long seconds for Ichigo to realize that he was being healed thanks to kidoh, which always felt different than Orihime's powers. Therefore, the king was not Orihime.

He was pleased by his intelligent deduction.

The last of his senses made a comeback as Ichigo peeled his eyes open, immediately wincing at the brightness of the light pouring into his vision. All he could see once he ignored that was black. Lots of black. Not really much of an improvement.

Ichigo turned his head, neck creaking with the effort and blearily tried to catch a glimpse of the king's identity. Black. Black. White obi. Black. Black. Neck. Face. Very bleary face. Dark hair, not that it revealed much. Blue eyes.

Recognition gradually dawned as a somewhat hesitant smile became present.

"Hana…tarou?" Ichigo croaked, his voice raspy and strained.

Hanatarou dipped his head at him, his hands still hovering over Ichigo's body. "Ohayou, Ichigo-san."

Refraining from answering now that the mystery had been solved, Ichigo closed his eyes. He just let the healing kidoh wash over him, restoring him to some semblance of normalcy.

Twenty minutes later found Ichigo sitting at his dining room table, cupping the warm tea Hanatarou had brewed for him. His body was still achy, but he was at least coherent. His headache had mostly calmed, though if he moved too quickly it would spike up into his brain. He was a bit shaky, especially his limbs, and his belly rolled at the thought of consuming anything. But the tea he could manage.

"How did you know to come here?" Ichigo asked, voice still cracking as he sipped at the tea.

Across the table from him, Hanatarou simply responded, "Kuchiki-taichou sent me."

Ichigo blinked. "Byakuya?"

He shifted position _slowly,_ pointedly looking around him. A fact wriggled at the back of his brain, informing him that something was missing. It took him several long seconds to realize that all the bottles were gone. Every last one of the sake jugs that he had personally emptied had vanished. And if he remembered correctly, he hadn't seen any in his journey from bedroom to bathroom to dining room.

The night before was coming back to him in snippets the longer he remained coherent and recovering. He could remember Byakuya coming and bits and pieces of the man's visit. Calling him Byakushi. Joking about Renji. Telling him about Rukia. But there wasn't a complete story. Parts of it were missing. For instance, he couldn't recall how he had gotten into his bed, though he assumed Byakuya must have helped him.

He wondered if Byakuya ended up staying all night.

"Hai, Ichigo-san," Hanatarou said, answering the question he had nearly forgotten he'd asked. "He woke me up this morning."

"It's morning?"

The healer inclined his head, eyes flickering towards the window. "Just before dawn."

Dawn? Damn, it was early. Ichigo couldn't believe that Byakuya had woken Hanatarou that early. He hadn't realized he was that bad off.

Ichigo rubbed at the back of his head, embarrassment trickling through him in increasing waves. "Thanks, Hanatarou," he murmured, shifting awkwardly.

He was a captain of the Gotei 13. Such behavior should have been beneath him, Shunsui notwithstanding. He couldn't yet decide if he was glad only Byakuya and Hanatarou had seen him in that state or mortified that Byakuya had been one of the aforementioned. Either way, his cheeks threatened to burn crimson, already a fascinating shade of red.

"I don't suggest you go into the office today," Hanatarou put in quietly, hands folded in his lap as he watched Ichigo.

The captain couldn't agree more. "Yeah. I'm sure I wouldn't make it through the day."

Just the thought of having to sit in his office, reading paperwork, made his head begin to ache more. It was literally impossible to _completely_ heal a hangover, even with kidoh. Orihime's ability was perhaps the only thing capable of relieving all the symptoms. Well, other than those weird concoctions Urahara had stashed away, but he wasn't even going to think about that.

Light blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully. "And perhaps a few more days wouldn't hurt," the healer tentatively suggested.

Ichigo tipped his head to the side. "A few _more_ days?"

"A vacation would be best," Hanatarou confirmed, all traces of meekness gone. "Away from Soul Society."

"Away?" Ichigo repeated in surprise.

"Yuzu has been asking to see you," Hanatarou reminded him gently. "Perhaps you should go to her."

Sighing, Ichigo resisted the habitual urge to rub his forehead. "What is that? Doctor's orders?"

The healer smiled faintly, but his eyes clearly told his determination that Ichigo obey. "Yes, it is. I've already sent the Hell Butterfly to Yamamoto-soutaichou with my personal recommendation."

His brows rose in surprise. "No choice in the matter then," Ichigo replied, though relief spread through him, relaxing the tenseness in his muscles. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he dreaded stepping back into the madness.

Hanatarou nodded, rising to his feet. "Enjoy your vacation, Ichigo-san," he wished the captain and left the dining room, letting himself out of the Kurosaki home.

Ichigo remained at the table for a while longer, finishing off his tea and letting the events of the past couple of days wash over him. Had it really only been forty-eight hours since his life had exploded around him? It felt like it had been weeks, at least to his exhausted body. So much could happen in only two days time.

His wife had left him. _Rukia_ had walked out the door, bag in hand, under the pretense that they just needed some time apart. As if they weren't already strained at the edges and filled with distance. He hadn't kissed her, truly kissed her, in so long he wondered if he was forgetting what she tasted like. And yet, she had said they needed space. Time to think.

On the verge of becoming an uncomfortable mix of depressed and angry again, Ichigo drained the last of his tea and rose to his feet. His eyes flicked to the clock behind him, registering the time. Both Nami and Sanji would be arriving soon. He needed to get cleaned up and go pick up his children, not to mention address Kaien's strange behavior.

He couldn't afford to completely break down.

Setting his used dishware in the sink, Ichigo turned to do just that. However, before he even made it to the bedroom, he did one last search through the house, making sure all the bottles and jugs had been gathered. He didn't need his children or the servants finding them, even if Sanji would see the nearly emptied sake rack when he arrived.

He passed by the guest room and paused, glancing in. The futon looked untouched, still packed away and not even wrinkled. As if no one had slept on it.

Perhaps Byakuya hadn't stayed, after all.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Translator's Notes
> 
> \--Tanabata: A Japanese star festival. People generally celebrate this day by writing wishes, sometimes in the form of poetry, on tanzaku, small pieces of paper, and hanging them on bamboo, sometimes with other decorations. Orihime gets her name from this festival. I do not believe that people give gifts but this is Shunsui we're talking about. Would he really need a reason?


	8. Of Recovery (Part One)

"Ichigoooooooooo!"

Kick. Punch. Duck. Jab. Counter.

"I'm holding your grandson, dumbass!"

Not that Ryuunosuke seemed to notice. The baby merely blinked up at him with innocent teal eyes.

Isshin sailed across the room and collided with the wall, the imprint of his son's shoe in his face. He bounced and hit the ground, only to spring back up like a freaking spring daisy. His eyes flickered to Byakuya before swooping on Ichigo's kids.

"My grandchildren!"

"Goat-Face!" Both Syaoran and Kaien chorused in greeting, somewhat but not completely happy to see him.

Each child inched back towards their respective guardian, Kaien grudgingly stepping towards his father and Syaoran raising a hand to Byakuya's hakama. They understood all too well the boisterousness of their grandfather's affections. It wasn't surprising they were a bit afraid of him, especially after witnessing the exchange between he and Ichigo.

If Byakuya wasn't already used to it, he might have been taken by complete surprise as well. It certainly wasn't like any other father-son interaction he'd ever witnessed.

Urahara Kisuke trailed behind Isshin's abrupt appearance, the other man having mysteriously appeared and attacking from above, which Byakuya suspected meant he had been lying in wait on the roof. With an unassuming air, though he was anything but, Urahara followed one of his oldest friends out of his shop. Benihime tapped the ground beside him.

"Pervert-oji-san!" both Syaoran and Kaien exclaimed at once, happier to see Urahara than the elder Kurosaki.

Byakuya didn't blame them.

From beside the Kuchiki heir, Ichigo snorted in amusement, watching his father deflate in disappointment at the children's lackluster reaction to him. "Cracks me up every time," he commented, more to himself than to any other.

Urahara smiled bemusedly as he approached, remarkably more subdued than he used to be. "Ichigo-kun, Kuchiki-san, it's been a while."

The look in his eyes, carefully shielded by the hat, was still knowing but lacked some of his former sparkle. Sadness lingered in those shaded orbs, a sadness that the passage of time could only ease, never completely heal. Even this many years after the war, little Ururu's death continued to haunt the former captain of the twelfth division.

However, there was also a deeper sorrow within the shopkeeper, deeper things broken inside of him. Byakuya largely suspected it had to do with Aizen's death. The man had refused to surrender, fighting with every last ounce of his strength and skill until the bitter end. Only with Urahara's strategies had the Shinigami even been able to counter the traitor's plans, leading to their eventual victory. Yet, not once had Urahara thought of betraying them for the man he loved, even if the very act of defeating Aizen had pained him immeasurably. And even through Aizen's betrayal and death, Urahara was still very much in love.

"It has," Ichigo responded in a tired tone, pulling Byakuya from his ruminations. "I just thought I'd take a little vacation with the kids."

The Kuchiki heir refrained from responding, merely tipping his head in greeting. Mikan in one arm, he laid his free had on Syaoran's hair. She was craning her neck to look up at Urahara, a part of her still fascinated by the strange man.

The last time Ichigo had been to the living world was before the twins were born. It made sense that Urahara would remark the length of passing time.

Off to the shopkeeper's right and just behind him, Isshin had drawn up straight, the look on his face no longer one of total stupidity. Temperance had briefly replaced the childish act as his gaze flickered between his son and Byakuya. It was a look the Kuchiki heir was not used to seeing on Isshin's face, and it vaguely disturbed him. He wondered, just then, if Isshin didn't already know what had happened in Seireitei.

"And your brother-in-law apparently," Urahara replied with a raised brow and a mischievous twinkle, a hint of his old craftiness returning.

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head as he shifted Ryuu, the infant making a faint contented noise. "Umm… yeah," he responded, eyes sliding to the side. He wasn't in the mood for explaining.

It had been much to Byakuya's surprise to receive a note from Yamamoto-soutaichou yesterday afternoon, one mandating that he take a weeklong holiday. It wasn't until afterwards that he had learned Ichigo had been given the same length of time off as well. He suspected a plot, but as it was in essence a command, he could not argue. Out of concern for Ichigo, he had decided to accompany the younger captain to the living world. It wasn't as if he could do anything else with his free time, and he strongly suspected that had been the old bastard's intention all along.

Gray-green eyes regarded them from beneath the hat. "I see." Urahara's gaze flicked between the two before turning on his heels, back towards his shop. "Well, I have your gigai in storage. Follow me."

Byakuya almost missed the relieved sigh that spilled from Ichigo's mouth. If he had not been at the other man's side, he wouldn't have caught it. Clearly, Ichigo didn't particularly want to discuss Rukia's absence, especially in front of the children. Byakuya did not blame him.

They moved to follow Urahara as he headed into his shop, and from the corner of his eye, Byakuya caught sight of Isshin's approach. The seriousness had all but vanished, to be replaced with a goofy grin as he set his sights on Ryuunosuke.

Isshin reached, fully intending to hold his grandson. Ichigo oh-so-deftly and calmly slipped Ryuu into his other hand, out of his father's immediate range. Not to be dissuaded, the eldest Kurosaki made a grab for Mikan. But the full force of an icy Kuchiki glare made him stop in his tracks, Isshin deflating like someone had let the air out of him. He perked up in the very next second, hopefully turning towards Kaien and Syaoran.

The two children, seeming to sense their impending plight, were already hurrying past Ichigo and Byakuya. They caught up with Urahara, Syaoran taking his hand.

"Pervert-oji-san, you have our gigai, too?" she questioned in wonder, as if she had truly expected her uncle to be rid of them once the first visit was through.

Byakuya knew better, however. His niece was quite crafty. It was like a game to them, teasing their grandfather "Goat-Face."

Utterly abandoned, Isshin pouted, the expression of a kicked puppy crossing his face. "My grandchildren don't like me," he whined to his son.

Inwardly, Byakuya could only think that Kaien came by his moodiness honestly, both by father and grandfather. It must have been a Kurosaki trait.

Ichigo did a grand job of ignoring him. "I'm not sure being here _is_ a vacation," he muttered, swiping a hand over his forehead where the early morning humidity had dampened his skin.

Byakuya's lips twitched. "He means well."

The startled look Ichigo shot his way was well worth the words. "You're defending my father," he countered in amusement. "Imagine that."

"I have no idea what you mean." His companion made a noncommittal noise as Kaien made an exclamation of wonder ahead of them, likely due to some fancy toy his uncle was showing off.

"Whatever." Ichigo snorted, hefting up Ryuu and holding his son against his shoulder in a move that was purely unconscious. "This coming from the man who insisted my father was a blithering fool."

Fighting against the smile, Byakuya deadpanned. "That he is. Which I can see, has not changed in the slightest." He shook his head, Mikan popping her fist against him as she grew bored of her surroundings. "I honestly doubt the relation at times."

"You and I both."

They stepped into the cool dim of the shop, blinking away the sudden change from bright morning. The sounds of the kids chatting happily with Urahara floated to their ears, even as Isshin arguing with Jinta in an amusing fashion joined the noise. It was a comforting sound, somewhat like home.

"And yet, the resemblance at times is strikingly uncanny," Byakuya suddenly remarked, just when it seemed he had dropped the conversation.

Brown eyes swiveled to him in an immediate glare. "Low blow," Ichigo accused, though he didn't sound too terribly angered. In fact, there was a hint of amusement in his face, lips twitching as though he were repressing a grin.

The very sight of it touched something inside of Byakuya.

"Tou-chan! Look at my gigai!" Syaoran's voice echoed through the shop as she found her missing father and uncle, twirling around and displaying her new skirt.

Ichigo's attention immediately shifted to her, never noticing the shocked expression that had taken over his brother-in-law's face.

' _But he loves you more_ ,' a whisper repeated in Byakuya's head, Zaraki's voice a grating mockery.

Inwardly, he groaned.

It was going to be a long week.

* * *

He had always hated wearing gigai, though he recognized the necessity of one while he was on holiday in the living world. He always felt like he was intruding in someone else's skin, the body never responding to his commands as he would have liked. Though logically, it couldn't have been that unlike his own, Byakuya could always detect a faint difference in everything. The way things tasted and smelled for instance.

He frowned, shifting again and feeling the gigai respond sluggishly. Urahara had only the highest quality, but he doubted even the most expensive would have suited him. He simply did not like the things.

More than that was the _clothing_.

While he could admire the interesting outfits that Ichigo chose to clothe himself in, slim-fitting "jeans" and a t-shirt that rode up every so often from his waistband, Byakuya couldn't get used to his own vesture. They were vastly different from the shihakushou, much too tight though significantly less so than Ichigo's. And it always felt as if people were staring at him.

The lack of his scarf and his Kenseikan were unsettling, not to mention the familiar weight of Senbonzakura at his side. It left him feeling edgy, as if he would be unprepared for an attack.

Grumbling under his breath where no one could hear him, Byakuya plucked at the front of the pale blue button-down shirt, even as he watched Mikan spit up on it with a sigh. She merely burbled up at him pleasantly, not caring that she had just left a wonderful little wet spot on the front. The innocent look didn't work on him. She had done it on purpose.

"You're as contrary as your uncle," he muttered thinking of Urahara, poking her in the belly, to which she giggled and tried to grasp his finger. "And twice as impish."

Mikan just blinked up at him, blue-green eyes pretending innocence. There was no winning against an infant.

Shaking his head, Byakuya lifted his gaze to the rest of the room, watching Ichigo interact with his friends and family. Yuzu was busy with a patient, but Sado-san was free, he and Ichigo deep in discussion by the far wall. Ryuu was still tucked patiently in his father's arm.

The tall half-Mexican was wearing a doctor's coat, fitting thing given his occupation. After the war with Aizen, Sado had returned to school, ending up with a medical degree in Pediatrics. He now worked at the recently expanded Kurosaki clinic, side by side with Isshin, which made Byakuya wonder for the man's sanity.

While Ichigo and his childhood friend caught up, Byakuya was content to observe. Isshin, on the other hand, felt he was now free to chase his grandchildren around the house. Syaoran had almost immediately sought shelter with her uncle, but her brother refused to give in.

"Ah! It's Goat-Face!" Kaien yelled as he careened past the door, running down the hallway.

"It's ojii-san!" Isshin replied. "Come learn Ojii-san-Karate-Love-Style, my grandson!"

The Kuchiki heir honestly didn't want to know what Isshin considered Karate-Love-Style. He wondered what Karin would think when she arrived home, only to find the house in chaos. Ichigo's trip hadn't really been planned ahead of time or even announced, so it would be quite a surprise.

Byakuya watched as Ichigo paused in the middle of his conversation with Sado, directing a glare at his father. Isshin and Kaien had just passed them yet again, and though the boy was too independent to ask for aid, it was clear his energy was waning. He was going to get caught soon.

"No special training, Goat-Face," Ichigo barked, causing his father to pause mid-pace and glance over his shoulder. "Kaien's still too young."

The eldest Kurosaki's face was downtrodden as he whined, "Ichigo! I'm only _playing._ "

Ichigo's lips firmed. " _Isshin_ ," he said in a warning tone Byakuya recognized as one he used on his _children_ , and the very sound of it was enough to make the other captain shake his head.

A definite role-reversal.

"Mahhh!" Isshin pouted, even as Kaien tiptoed out of the room, looking to make his escape. "Fine. No training."

"Shouldn't you be handling the clinic anyway," Ichigo countered.

Sado patted his friend on the shoulder. "We could close early," he rumbled in a deep voice that never ceased to surprise Byakuya. "Yuzu's patient is the last one."

The door to Byakuya's left creaked open in that moment, a somewhat fatigued Yuzu emerging from behind it. Her eyes were on the floor as she idly pulled her nurse's hat from her head.

"Tou-san, there's a-- Ichi-nii!" She lifted her gaze in enough time to catch sight of her brother. "I didn't know you were coming." Her face registered pleasant surprise, clearly happy to see him.

Ichigo smiled at her, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "Surprise," he responded with a faint smile, one that Byakuya noticed seemed reserved for a very select few. "We--"

"You brought the twins!" Yuzu exclaimed, completely overriding whatever he was going to say. She practically sprang across the room. "This is Ryuu, right?" She reached to take him from her brother, only to draw back with a sheepish expression. "Oops. Just came from the patient. I need to wash up first."

Sado cleared his throat to gather her attention. "I'll close down the clinic, Yuzu," he offered graciously before turning back towards its Ichigo. "I'm off on Wednesday."

The Shinigami captain nodded. "We could catch lunch or something."

In agreement, Sado inclined his head, clapping Ichigo on the shoulder before he headed for the same door that Yuzu had appeared from earlier. Ichigo's sister chose that moment to spring back into the room, though he hadn't even realized she was missing. In what had to amount to half a minute, she had changed out of her nurse's scrubs and was now claiming Ryuu from her brother.

"He's so cute," she gushed, cuddling the infant in her arms. Her eyes swept towards her brother. "Where's the rest of your children, Ichi-nii?"

Byakuya couldn't help but watch in amusement, wondering how she had missed his presence.

Ichigo gestured towards the couch as he answered, "Byakuya has Mikan and Syaoran. Kaien's hiding from Isshin."

Predictably, Isshin made a face that was remarkably similar to the same pout Byakuya had seen Kaien display. "He's not hiding," the older man grumbled. "We're playing… hide and seek." As if the idea had just occurred to him, he suddenly brightened and hollered, "Ready or not! Here, I come, my sweet grandson!"

Seconds later, there was nothing but dust in the spot where Isshin had been standing. Ichigo just rolled his eyes, well used to his father's antics.

"Hello, Byakuya-san," Yuzu greeted as she wandered his way, still cooing over Ryuunosuke. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have cooked something."

He tipped his head in greeting. "It was a rather spontaneous decision."

In his arms, Mikan looked up at her aunt and reached towards her. Baby language gurgled from her lips, as though fascinated by a face her young mind couldn't quite remember.

"We're on vacation," Syaoran chirped excitedly. "Tou-chan said we deserved to have some fun."

Yuzu smiled at her niece. "And you do," she responded, her free hand patting Mikan on the head, fingers moving softly over the dark hair.

Despite her cheeriness, Byakuya could still sense that she was confused. Her eyes flickered between her brother and himself, noticing immediately that a certain important someone was missing.

"Where's Ru--"

"Tadaima!"

Karin's voice suddenly poured through the house, interrupting a question that had quite the potential to be _awkward_. Byakuya ignored the feeling of relief that swept through him, knowing they would have to explain it sooner or later.

Her footfalls were soft as she appeared in the doorway, surprise registering on her features. "Ichi-nii-san? When did you get here? And--"

"Nooooooo!"

The sound of Kaien's cry of despair was immediately followed by his mad flight into the family room. He abandoned all attempts at independence and huddled behind his father, peering out from the side towards the door. Appearing shortly thereafter, Isshin skidded into the room, only to draw up short as he registered the presence of his oldest daughter.

The detective-inspector gave him a firm look. "Scaring the grandchildren again, Goat-Face," Karin teased, lifting a brow.

"We're bonding!" Isshin countered as if affronted.

Setting a hand on his son's shoulder, Ichigo silently promised he wouldn't force the boy to spend time with this maniac.

With that, Byakuya noticed, the entire Kurosaki clan had gathered. Something that hadn't happened since the twins were born. Only Hitsugaya and Hanatarou were missing. He paused, running the list over in his head, and silently amended himself. And, of course, Rukia.

Karin snorted at her father's behavior. "Keep that up, and you'll end up in jail," she retorted, moving to the back of the couch where the Kuchiki heir was still sitting. "Evening, Byakuya. You came as well, I see."

There was a note of question in her voice as she looked expectantly between him and Ichigo. Just like her sister, she was weighing the noticeable absence of Rukia. But she didn't ask, and for that, Byakuya was grateful.

Instead, she reached out. He offered Mikan willingly, watching as she smiled at her niece.

"She looks just like me," Karin commented, winking at her brother as she held Mikan up with a firm grip under her arms.

Her eyes focused on her aunt, Mikan giggling and waving a fist.

"She looks like her mother," Ichigo corrected before he realized what he was saying. He instantly stilled.

Byakuya could practically see the tension as it whipped through his body, Ichigo quickly casting for something else to focus on. Kaien was a lucky target, receiving the front of his father's attention as sword-calloused hands ruffled his hair; honestly, Urahara always managed the tiniest details.

"You up for some sparring, brat?"

The grin that split Kaien's face could have moved mountains. "Really?" he asked, entire face glowing. "Yeah!"

"I guess that means I should make dinner, ne?" Yuzu posed, rocking Ryuu in her arms with an almost covetous look in her eyes. "What does everyone want?"

Karin shook her head, glancing away briefly from where she still held Mikan up in the air. "I don't think it matters, Yuzu. Just make what we have."

The suggestion sparked excitement in Syaoran as she sat up with interest. "Can I help?" she interjected hopefully.

"Of course," Yuzu responded. "Ichi-nii rarely helped me, so you'll have to make up for it." She smiled at her brother, proving she was only teasing.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, already steering his son towards the back yard. It wouldn't be dark for another few hours, giving them plenty of time for whatever Ichigo had planned.

"I'll take Ryuunosuke," Byakuya offered, rising to his feet.

Syaoran slid off the couch beside him, nearly bouncing on her heels out of sheer excitement. He supposed cooking would interest her.

"Isshin!" Ichigo barked as he slid the door open, gesturing Kaien to precede him outside. "The gear still back here?"

Pouting, a lingering stare at Ryuu who was safely in Byakuya's hold, Isshin nodded. "Yes," he answered almost distractedly before realizing exactly what his son was referring to. The pout slid into a great grin as he bounded after Ichigo. "I can train, too!" he declared, barely missing slamming into the glass door as his son closed it on him.

"Thanks, Byakuya-san," Yuzu answered, attracting his attention. Her gaze flickered to her brother in slight disappointment. "He just left you behind, didn't he?"

Karin watched the Kuchiki heir steadily, face alit with mischief. "Ah, but Byakuya is family, isn't he?"

It was easy for him to meet her eyes steadily, though he was certain she was trying to imply something. "I think I can manage to entertain myself."

Karin's lips spread into a slow smirk, but it was Yuzu who actually responded, "Really? That's good." She reached down, tangling fingers with Syaoran and addressed her niece, "You can help me with the rice."

"Hai," Syaoran chirped, clearly excited.

Stepping to follow after her sister, Karin couldn't resist one last jab. "I'm glad you came, Byakuya. This should prove to be an enlightening dinner."

He followed her exit, Ryuu burbling in his arm. Her insinuations were strangely familiar, as if she and a certain deranged fool were in league.

And of course, Zaraki's voice laughed in his head. ' _But he loves you more_.'

* * *

Family dinner at the Kurosaki household was an occasion worthy of any comedy act, Byakuya had come to learn. It was almost disturbing how used he was to it already. As he carefully ate the meal Yuzu had so kindly cooked for them all, he couldn't help but wonder how Ichigo had survived in a family of insanity.

"Mahhhh," Isshin attempted to coax as he pushed a spoon full of mashed vegetables towards Ryuunosuke, the green paste looking quite unappetizing. "Eat for tou-chan."

Ryuu, even in his infinite patience, was having none of it. Usually the one to readily submit to just about anything, he simply stared back at the man invading his field of vision and refused to eat.

Byakuya didn't blame him.

Channeling Hitsugaya, Ichigo stared at the man who had helped give him life. " _I'm_ their father," he stressed, pausing with cup halfway to his lips. "You're just Goat-Face."

Watery eyes turned towards his oldest son, the spoon of unpalatable goo hovering in the air. Byakuya swore that Ryuu was very subtly inching away from it, clearly expressing his distaste.

"I'm still their ojii-chan," Isshin retorted.

Ichigo shook his head, calmly returning to his meal. "No, you're Goat-Face. Don't confuse them. You know it upsets Jyuushiro when you do." The look of indifference on his face completely belied the fact that he was causing his father to deflate, bit by bit.

Lower lip pouting and beginning to wibble, the spoon wavered in Isshin's grasp. "That white-haired weasel," he whined childishly. "I'm your tou-chan. Not him."

"Gods, I wish he was." Ichigo sighed, popping some rice into his mouth.

Byakuya snorted and then tried to disguise the motion behind a faint cough, reaching for his glass of water. The constant rivalry between father and son never ceased to amuse him, especially when it involved countering Isshin. Having been at the receiving end of more than one attempt of Isshin-Love, he felt only justified.

Startling, however, was the silence coming from Karin, where she sat at her father's left. Normally one to take pleasure and part in her father's destruction, she was remarkably stoic. Her dark eyes steadily watched Byakuya and Ichigo as she ate, an unreadable expression on her face.

It was unsettling, much like the Zaraki voice that wouldn't stop flitting around in his head. Much like the annoying buzz of an oncoming Hollow attack.

Meanwhile, the madness continued.

Isshin had apparently missed his son's comment, continuing in his lonely speech. "I can't believe you let Jyuushiro sit with the family during your wedding reception," he pouted, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be feeding Ryuu and pushing the spoon back towards the infant. "I had to sit in the back. With Keigo. And that bitch-ninja from the second division."

When Ichigo glared, Isshin paused, his gaze sweeping over Kaien and Syaoran. "I mean, that _witch_ -ninja."

"You're still sore about that?" Ichigo countered. "It was thirty fu-- it was thirty years ago!"

"You put Shunsui closer than me! Even Ki-chan got a better table."

Ichigo rolled his eyes as Byakuya recalled the reception. Urahara had indeed received a better seat, right next to the family table, where Jyuushiro had sat in the chair Isshin should have taken. He couldn't quite remember the reason Ichigo had given for remanding his father to the back of the room, but he vaguely recalled the mention of cameras, gifts, and a proposed toast.

He honestly didn't want to know.

"It wasn't really that bad," Yuzu interjected from where she sat sandwiched between the twins, ever the peacemaker. "At least, you were invited." The tone of her voice proved that she was teasing, though in her sweet Yuzu way.

Yes, she was a Kurosaki through and through.

She continued, almost casually, as she managed to feed Mikan without any trouble, "You sat with the family at my wedding, remember? And you will when Karin gets married."

"Over her dead body," Ichigo inserted with a muffled snicker.

Yuzu chuckled, too, shooting a glance to her sister. The children beamed as Isshin deflated entirely, sulking quite visibly.

The lines of tension in Ichigo's forehead were beginning to ease. Being around his family was good for him, Byakuya noticed. And though he was certain Ichigo hadn't forgotten about the past forty-eight hours, it was easier to push it aside in the face of Kurosaki madness.

_Thunk_ _!_

Karin set her bowl down against the table, hard enough for the sound to echo around the dining room. Syaoran and Kaien jumped in surprise, even as everyone turned to look at her, confusion evident in their expression.

"So," Karin began, pinning Ichigo and Byakuya down with a firm stare. "Where's Rukia?"

Just the way she said his sister's name was all the proof Byakuya needed to know that Karin was well aware of the events in Seireitei. Hitsugaya was likely the one to tell her, which meant she probably already knew where Rukia was. He could only guess that she wanted the truth out in the open, something Ichigo was trying not to do.

"Okaa-san's out of town," Kaien answered around a mouthful of rice, unaware of the skyrocketing tension.

Visibly paling, though he hid it well, Ichigo's eyes shuttered to the table. "Yeah, she decided to take… uh…" But words failed him.

Inwardly cursing Karin for her directness, Byakuya swooped in for the save. "She was sent on patrol," he clarified, pretending he hadn't seen Ichigo's grateful glance. Or that it had made him feel pleasantly warm on the inside.

"Oh really?" Karin arched a brow, setting down her chopsticks and propping her elbows on the table. She laced her fingers together, propping her chin on her interlocked digits. "I didn't think Ukitake was in the habit of sending new mothers on patrol."

From the corner of his eye, Byakuya caught Ichigo staring at his sister, silently willing her to shut up. It was plainly obvious that Karin was highly angered by the events and was in no way going to help hide the truth from the children. But he wasn't going to allow her to break the news. Ichigo struggled with Rukia's absence enough as it was. He didn't need any more pain.

"She's missed it several times thanks to her pregnancies," Byakuya smoothly put in, unfaltering under her continued verbal assault.

By this time, Yuzu and Isshin had noticed the increasing tension. Both paused in the midst of feeding their respective twin, Yuzu with hand poised midway to Mikan. The little girl strained towards the food and made a gurgle of discontent, reaching up with a protesting hand. Isshin, conversely, had somehow managed to get more food on himself than Ryuu had successfully eaten. Nevertheless, the playfulness had all but vanished, and he watched the conversation between Karin and Byakuya with increased gravity.

"Still, it's rather early. I know Toushirou wouldn't have required her to do it," Karin countered without missing a beat, a hint of reproach in her voice. "Especially since she has other children at home."

Every word was a carefully planned jab at his sister, and Byakuya was infinitely glad that the children were too young to understand subtext. Ichigo, however, seemed as if he was going to tear his hair out from sheer frustration, the color nearly drained from his face. If she had been closer, Byakuya had the feeling Ichigo would have already kicked her under the table. But as she was too far, he was left with the only option of silently pleading for her to stop.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes, setting down his own chopsticks. "Ukitake Jyuushiro has been a captain for more than a millennium. I'm sure he has a better grasp of the situation than someone of Hitsugaya-taichou's stature and age."

She bristled, as Byakuya expected she would. Karin was just as sensitive about Hitsugaya's height as he was. Not only was she taller than him now, but she was in her fifties, while Hitsugaya still resembled a teenager. In public, they were also regarded strangely, and he knew that Karin strongly hoped she would look younger again after her death. Both topics were sore points for the couple.

Byakuya liked Karin; he really did. And he wasn't fond of bringing up uncomfortable points for her. However, he wanted her to stop pushing. Her comments only hurt Ichigo, who had taken to gazing down at the table, seemingly on the edge of another break down. He wasn't ready for his children to find out yet, having no answers or explanations to give them.

The Kuchiki heir watched with absolutely no satisfaction as Karin's lips formed a thin line. Her fingers unlaced as she folded her hands on the table, mouth opening to say something that he suspected was going to be regrettable.

"You shouldn't talk about Shiro-oji-san like that," Syaoran interrupted, her clear voice cutting through the building tension like a ray of light. "Shun-ojii-san told me he can't help that he's short."

Kaien nodded vigorously. "It's Matsu-chan's fault," he chimed in. "She's stunted his growth with all her hugs of _love_."

Ichigo's head whipped up as fast as only a father's could, centering his full attention on his son. "Hugs of love?" he repeated, voice filled with both confusion and a hint of concern.

"You know what a hug of love is, tou-san!" Kaien chided in his knowledgeable voice. "Shun-ojii-san says it's when she hugs people with her other arms." To that, he gestured out in front of his chest to demonstrate what Byakuya could only assume were Matsumoto's assets.

"When did Shunsui tell you this?" Byakuya demanded.

They should have known better than to leave that man with impressionable children. He simply didn't have an off switch.

The boy shrugged as if it didn't particularly matter to him. "A few weeks ago. He was telling us about other hugs of love like when a man and woman _really_ love each other, but his Nanao-chan started hitting him with her book."

"I think it means she likes him," Syaoran added after demurely wiping her mouth with a napkin. "That's what Yumi-oji-chan told me."

Ichigo shook his head. "I think that I need to reconsider my babysitters."

A part of Byakuya couldn't agree more. But there was another, more relieved part of him, one that was glad for the inadvertent shift in the conversation. They had been successfully diverted from the awkward discussion of Rukia.

Karin still shot daggers, but Byakuya knew she would no longer bring it up. She had been successfully thwarted. And Ichigo's worry was effectively deflected by the innocent inquiries. The fear that his children would discover all too quickly had been shoved to the back of his mind, replaced with the consideration of just what stories Shunsui had been telling his children.

At the same time, however, Byakuya knew things weren't quite abandoned. Isshin had a strange look on his face, another moment of complete seriousness. And Yuzu didn't seem entirely convinced. There was a gleam in her eye that didn't bode well at all.

Neither one of them had been fooled.

* * *

 


	9. Of Recovery (Part Two)

It was night time in the Kurosaki household. Perhaps the only instance throughout the day when it was entirely still and quiet, most of the residents settling into sleep. Yuzu had already taken the twins back to the house she and Hanatarou shared with Karin next door, telling her brother not to worry and that they would be just fine.

Kaien and Syaoran were asleep in Yuzu and Karin's old room, which the boy had not been happy about. He was too old for sharing a room with his sister, or so he had claimed. His father had simply told him to suck it up. That had been the end of that. Pouting to rival Isshin's had quickly followed but had been readily ignored.

Karin had also headed home, claiming a need for rest. Though undoubtedly she would be up half the night, patrolling Karakura in her Shinigami form. She had taken after her brother in more ways than one, even donning the mantle of substitute Shinigami. Another effect of the war. She was strong. And Byakuya surmised that by the time she entered Soul Society, she would probably be as powerful as a vice-captain, if not a captain.

With no more need to pretend, Byakuya had quickly shed his gigai, glad to be rid of the thing. He already had plans to spend as much time out of it as possible. He breathed a sigh of relief once he was free, hand momentarily resting on Senbonzakura as if to remind himself of her presence. Leaving the gigai propped up in Ichigo's old room, he took to wandering the house.

It was a lot like walking through Ichigo's past, if he thought about it. Not much had changed in the last several decades, or so Ichigo had explained. Everything was pretty much in the same set-up, and though Byakuya had been to the house for family dinners, he had never stayed for an extended time. And never for the night.

Honestly, he hadn't taken a vacation in the past… Well, it was nearly a century now that he thought about it. Ever since Hisana…

Byakuya firmly drove that particular memory from his mind, resolving to not return to old sorrows while he was supposed to be vacationing. He stepped down the stairs, wincing when they creaked beneath his feet. He spied a few pictures on the wall and hesitated mid-way down the short flight.

One was a large family portrait, taken before Masaki's death. Karin and Yuzu were just infants, much like Mikan and Ryuu. Young Ichigo was clutching onto his mother's side, looking adoringly up at her. Isshin was giving the camera a goofy grin, posed as if he had been in the midst of running back from setting up the camera and had to abruptly turn to catch the picture. It looked happy.

He moved on to the next. Various family photos seemed to be the standard here. Yuzu and Karin together in their school uniforms. Ichigo's mother holding the newly born twins. A wedding photo of Isshin and his wife. Ichigo and his mother baking together, bits of flour dusting the young boy's face.

But he was smiling.

Byakuya noticed that first and foremost. Young Ichigo smiled every time he was shown with his mother. He was cute; he looked a lot like Kaien. Father and son resembled each other more than they realized.

He thought of his own house, the perfectly posed portraits that had been made of he and his parents. One sat in the main room, framed and carefully placed. He knew there was probably another in the main complex. They were in their finest dress, elegant backdrop, faces pulled prim and graceful. No one was smiling. It was nothing like this.

Shaking his head before he became trapped in unwelcome nostalgia, Byakuya continued down the stairs. He passed an empty kitchen, a few dishes still stacked in the sink and waiting to be cleaned. The sound of voices drew his attention towards the living room, and he paused in the doorway, glancing in.

Isshin and Ichigo appeared to be having a serious discussion. They were standing next to one another by the door to the backyard, Ichigo posed with his hands in his pockets as Byakuya had already seen from a few of his pictures scattered throughout the house. He imagined that perpetual scowl was in place.

This was something he should not interrupt. Isshin, in a serious mode, was a thing never to be disturbed. Besides, Ichigo rarely had the opportunity to truly speak with his father. It just highlighted how much their behavior earlier was just play. Ichigo did love his father, even if his words sounded otherwise.

Their voices were low murmurs, really just enough to attract his attention but not to bring any clarity, which was fine. Byakuya had no intention to eavesdrop. He turned and left them to their business, stepping down the hallway. He phased through the front door, something he wasn't that fond of doing and flitted up to the roof.

Karakura was quiet and still at night, very close to perfectly peaceful. Byakuya lowered himself to the roof and slowly expanded his reiatsu, checking the vicinity. No Hollow were anywhere nearby, and he relaxed slightly. Kaien would be a tasty snack for any wandering Minus, as would most of Ichigo's children and the rest of the Kurosaki clan itself. It never paid to be too careful.

The setting of the sun brought relief to the wet heat of the day. A fresh, cool wind was blowing in as Byakuya sat on the roof, more or less meditating.

When Isshin joined him some twenty minutes later, Byakuya already knew that he was coming. He could tell from reiatsu alone that Ichigo had likely already headed off to bed. But the Kurosaki elder had deviated, climbing up onto the roof.

"I'm sorry you were dragged into all of this," the former captain said quietly as he started towards his guest. "Between your sister and your best friend."

It wasn't really the sort of comment that Byakuya could readily form a response to. He kept silent, merely listening. He had learned that oftentimes, given enough silence, a Kurosaki would speak on his or her own. Prompting only led to closed mouths.

"It's not going to end well, you know," Isshin continued, his soft footfalls coming to a halt right next to Byakuya. He did not sit, however, tilting his head to look up at the clear night sky. "These things never do."

Grey eyes flickered over the silent and still homes around them. "And what do you know of such things?"

"More than you think, Byakuya-bo. I got a very interesting note yesterday from _my_ ojii-san." Isshin's hand settled in his pockets, a stance so similar to Ichigo's.

Byakuya blinked.

 _His_ ojii-san?

Ah, dammit. That had never occurred to him. He hadn't expected Yamamoto would say anything. He supposed that meant Isshin had only been playing the fool.

"And what did it say?" the Kuchiki heir asked warily, though he suspected Isshin would have continued regardless of his interest or not.

The older man exhaled faintly. "Just a warning about a certain rumor circulating in Seireitei. One that Ichigo has now confirmed."

He had figured as much. Which meant that Yuzu was perhaps the only one in the core family group unaware of the entire situation. Byakuya was certain that Urahara with his infinite information network knew as well.

"I haven't seen him like this in a long time. So lost," Isshin went on, voice turning wistful. "Not since his mother died. He blamed himself for that, too. He used to be a lot like Ryuu and Yuzu."

Despite himself, interest perked in the sixth-division captain. "Oh?"

In his mind, he was trying to picture an Ichigo who was more outgoing and kind, infinitely patient. He recalled the photos on the wall, the smiling Ichigo with his mother. It both fit him and did not. Byakuya said as much.

"I'm not sure that would be an improvement," he remarked. "I think he's fine the way he is."

Isshin tipped his head, turning to glance down at Byakuya. "I'm sure you do." He chuckled.

Stiffening, Byakuya was treated to a brief flashback of his conversation with Zaraki. He quickly replayed what he had just said in his head and how it could have been construed, paling and inwardly cursing. Those types of things were emerging without his consent, slipping so easily into his conversations that it was a wonder he hadn't noticed before.

' _But he loves you more_ ,' that damned Zaraki voice repeated in his head, mocking him for his denial.

He bit back an outward growl of irritation. Damn Kenpachi. He was going to pay for putting such foolish ideas into an otherwise rational thought process.

"And I know that no matter how this ends, he'll be okay. _You'll_ be there for him."

Byakuya blinked, stunned by the sudden shift in the conversation. He frowned.

"What? I--"

"Soooo cute! My two sons!" Isshin abruptly cried, cutting him off in an instant. The man threw his arms wide, a Cheshire grin splitting his face. "Helping each other out in their moment of need."

Sensing his impending attack, Byakuya moved from sitting to standing in less than a millisecond. Just as Isshin lunged to inflict a forceful embrace, the Kuchiki heir ever-so-calmly flitted out of his way; Isshin missed by a long mile. Unable to stop his forward motion, the former captain stumbled and tumbled directly off the roof. A muffled thump quickly followed.

Mildly concerned, Byakuya stepped to the edge and glanced down. Isshin had landed on his head, so there was no need to be worried. And no one else seemed especially troubled since there had been no response to the noise.

Assuming that Isshin would be fine, he turned away and headed back inside, ignoring the man's faint twitching. He was a former Shinigami, after all. It would take much more than a fall from a roof to kill him.

Byakuya made his way to Ichigo's old room, graciously given since he was technically a guest. Ichigo had taken the couch downstairs. The sight of the Quincy bedspread was the first thing to greet him, unchanged since Ichigo had left all those years ago. Or so had been explained to him.

He removed Senbonzakura, leaning her against the wall within easy reach, and lowered himself into the bed. It was different than a futon on the ground. Not necessarily unpleasant, just different. And it still smelled of Ichigo, a faint scent of thyme and nutmeg that Byakuya had long learned to associate with the younger man.

Sinking into the mattress, he turned his head, eyes falling on Ichigo's closet. One of the doors was partially open, giving a glimpse of darkness within. He couldn't help but try to imagine what it had been like back then. When Rukia had been in the living world, spending her days in Ichigo's closet, stealing his sister's clothes.

Long before the war. Long before Aizen's betrayal. Long before Byakuya had been sent to Karakura to retrieve his wayward sister and kill the human who had taken her powers. Back to when Ichigo had just been a boy who wanted to save his family, doing what was necessary.

From then on, his fate had been sealed.

Byakuya wondered how Ichigo's life would have different if Rukia had never stumbled upon him that day. What other Shinigami might have learned of his existence, his spiritual power too much to be ignored. Would he have been saved the pain he experienced now. Or was Fate not that generous?

It had begun as a friendship borne nearly from necessity. He had broken into Seireitei to save her, returning a favor. Fighting against all odds. Determination. Something Byakuya didn't really know for himself. When had he ever really been determined to do anything?

Yes, taking down Aizen had required a fair amount of resolve. But that was more circumstance than making the conscious decision to do something rather than nothing.

In a way, Ichigo was rather… admirable, even to a man such as Byakuya. And that thought circulated in his mind for the rest of the night.

* * *

Their shared holiday seemed to pass all too quietly, the days flitting quickly by. Ichigo spent a lot of his time with his family, catching them up on the events in Seireitei and generally being around them. The children were happy to see their aunts and Goat-Face as well, even consenting to spend some time with their foolish grandfather.

Byakuya was usually found trailing along at some distance, holding one twin or the other. Sometimes, he was with the children while Ichigo caught up with friends. Other times, he managed to find moments to himself. It was then that he would drop his gigai and wander around Karakura, dispatching any random Hollow he might run into. Even after nearly a week, he still couldn't get used to the false body.

But mostly, Byakuya was with Ichigo, observing him with his family or friends. Seeing the Ichigo that not many in Seireitei were privy to. It was a reminder that Ichigo hadn't been through Soul Society, that he was once a member of the living world until he had chosen to leave that life behind. Byakuya supposed that it wouldn't have been that easy to return to being a simple human after the war with Aizen.

While Ichigo wandered around, Byakuya had the chance to meet the famed Keigo, a rather spastic individual whose voice reminded him of Hisagi Shuuhei. Keigo was an interesting mix of Isshin and Matsumoto. Or perhaps Shunsui when he was on a Jyuushiro hunt, his voice echoing throughout the many divisions.

Energetic and loud with a tendency towards random outbursts, Byakuya could see how the man had made his life out of being a comedian. World-famous, if Keigo himself were to be believed. And unlike many others in the same occupation, he had managed to live a relatively clean life, free of scandal. Strangely enough, Byakuya didn't find any of his antics very amusing. Ichigo didn't either, lacking in patience, and often responded with a swift kick to the face.

Much like Isshin, Keigo sprung up from such violence with a happy sprint as if he were a spring daisy. Of course, Keigo couldn't leave the visit without an inquiry as to the location of "dear sweet Rukia-chan, who was too good for rotten, scowling men like Ichigo."

Byakuya simply stood there and watched as Ichigo had lied. It was probably easier for him if he did. Keigo might have been an old friend, but it still wasn't something that Ichigo wanted as common knowledge. The other captain supposed that if Keigo ever found out the truth, Ichigo would deal with it then. But he didn't want to handle the spastic attack reality would create in Keigo.

In any case, meeting Keigo invariably meant meeting the man's best friend, Mizuiro, who owned his own business and was currently married to an older woman. He had children, two in fact, but both were away at college. Byakuya was relieved to find that at least one of Ichigo's friends was somewhat normal, Mizuiro rather calm and pleasant-faced. Though there were times when something the man said made him think of Ichigo's vice-captain.

Ichigo spent a good few hours with both of them, catching up on old times. Apparently, they came to learn, Keigo's sister never forgot her crush on Ikkaku. Byakuya was just surprised that there were two idiots in the universe willing to be attracted to the bald, tactless moron. And though his scowl was firmly in place, the Kuchiki heir could easily tell that Ichigo was happy to see his friends doing so well. He would just never admit it unless pulled by his ears and submitted to the torture of listening to Yamamoto blather on.

The week passed, the end of their vacation drawing near. The day before they were supposed to return, Isshin sprang on them an idea that Ichigo was quick to accept. Namely, a day without the children. Luckily, Ichigo missed the wink that his father tossed Byakuya's direction when Isshin claimed that it would help to "strengthen their bond."

Ichigo was blissfully oblivious, never noticing that his father was carefully crafting a trap.

Meanwhile, Syaoran and Kaien jumped at the chance to see a movie and go out for pizza, even if they had to endure their grandfather's presence. Yuzu and Karin took the twins. And just like that, Ichigo and Byakuya were left alone to do whatever they wanted.

Zaraki would have laughed his ass off. Byakuya could just imagine the look the eleventh-division captain would send him, knowing and superior, accusing with every word from his mouth.

Denial. Byakuya had no need for denial. Zaraki's accusations were so absurd. And yet… and yet, there were times when he caught himself saying something that seemed so innocuous but could definitely be construed some other way. Ichigo, for his part, never seemed to notice a damn thing, which was probably for the better.

"That's the hospital where I first met Kanonji," Ichigo said, gesturing vaguely towards a rundown structure covered in ivy and half caved in on one side.

Byakuya blinked. "Kanonji?"

The name sounded familiar.

He paused, one hand rising to his mouth. "Why do I know that name?"

His companion snorted, shoving his hands back into his pockets and not seeming to notice that they were gathering a good number of stares. "He's already died and entered Soul Society. Graduated from the Academy a couple of months back and entered the tenth division."

Recognition dawned. "Ah, the one who always calls you his disciple every time you meet."

Ichigo scowled. "No matter how many times I tell him I'm Kurosaki-taichou, he never listens."

Inwardly, Byakuya was amused. It was a form of karma, he supposed, since Ichigo had constantly teased Hitsugaya by calling him so familiarly. He had a bad habit of that, though it hadn't really changed.

"That explains why you avoid the tenth," Byakuya responded, a hint of teasing in his tone. But only a hint. He was Kuchiki Byakuya, after all.

"In part." Ichigo paused, glancing around him. "Heh. I think we're near Ishida's place."

"The Quincy?"

Ichigo nodded, peering at the nearest street sign and trying to decide if he was accurate. "Last I remembered, his house was around here. Tried to call him, but the bastard was out of town for a fashion show. Or that's what Tatsuki said at least."

"And how is Arisawa-san?"

Byakuya remembered seeing pictures of her in Ichigo's house. Some of them were older, when Ichigo was only a boy and at the same dojo as her. A few were more recent. One showed her with her family, her only son and her husband, who just happened to be the last surviving Quincy. Well, not anymore. He already had a twitchy child to pass his skills onto. Honestly, the boy… well, a man now, had some sort of weird abhorrence to buttons.

Ichigo sighed, shoulders visibly slumping. "Her dojo's near here. I could probably stop by and see her, but I don't feel like explaining anything. Tatsuki's like a lie detector. She'd know something was up in a minute."

"She is a rather... _forceful_ woman," Byakuya conceded, inclining his head.

There was a snicker. "That's putting it politely."

He felt a smile twitch at his lips. The past week had been very healing for Ichigo. While he hadn't completely forgotten about the mess waiting for him in Seireitei, he didn't look on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Luckily, Karin stopped prying for information in front of the children after the first day. She did, however, pull her brother aside for the whole story, after revealing that she had already known most of it thanks to her boyfriend and explaining what she had been intending.

Ichigo did sit down and tell Yuzu that he and Rukia were separating, though he didn't detail the entire reasoning behind it. Byakuya had overheard part of the conversation by accident, and he could tell that Ichigo still hoped something would work out. He didn't explicitly say so but, he it was pretty damn obvious.

Kaien and Syaoran remained unaware of the true purpose behind their mother's absence. Byakuya knew that wouldn't be the case for much longer, but he hoped there was enough time that Ichigo could fortify himself for that particular conversation.

"Is that… eh, what's his name? The Afro-guy?"

Byakuya shifted his attention to find Ichigo staring at the top of some building, his forehead pinched in confusion. He followed his companion's gaze, setting sights on a Shinigami, who was doing a strange sort of movement. Posing, it looked like. He was vaguely familiar, likely the person assigned to normally patrol Karakura.

"What's he doing?" Ichigo questioned.

The Kuchiki heir shrugged elegantly. "Something we are probably saner not knowing about."

Then, as he watched, a rather impish grin took over the other captain's face. His lips slid into a slow smirk.

"He looks bored," Ichigo mused aloud. "We should give him something to do."

Byakuya lifted a brow, sensing a plot. "Oh? Do tell."

"Watch this." A look that was purely Kaien crossed Ichigo's face, further cementing in Byakuya's mind where the boy received it from.

Ichigo slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the gikongan, popping one of the small round orbs into his mouth. Before Byakuya could blink, he slipped out of his gigai in full Shinigami form, leaving a rather sedate mod soul behind.

Both Byakuya and the mod soul watched as Ichigo successfully masked his reiatsu and used a few flits of shunpo until he was on the rooftop. He appeared behind Zennosuke without the other Shinigami noticing, remaining completely unaware as he continued his posturing.

With a self-assured smirk that Byakuya could see even from the distance, Ichigo reached up and twitched his fingers over his face. The Kuchiki heir could feel the pulse of reiatsu as he summoned his Hollow mask, sweeping through the air.

Apparently, so did Zennosuke, his entire body stiffening in surprise. One hand in the midst of his movements paused.

Then, Ichigo reached forward and ever so calmly, tapped the resident Shinigami on the shoulder.

Zennosuke turned slowly, eyes wide.

"Boo."

Byakuya could hear Ichigo's voice, though it must have been a pretty sedate statement. Behind the Hollow's mask, it had taken on an airy, almost grating quality.

There was a brief moment of stillness before Zennosuke let out an unearthly shriek and leapt backwards in an attempt to escape, right over the railing. In his terror, he must have forgotten about his ability to form substance beneath his feet because he promptly dropped like a rock, tumbling straight into a bush directly beneath him. The resulting rustle and thump was unnoticed by anyone.

The Kuchiki heir found a faint smile quirking his lips as Ichigo's mask shattered, and he quickly made his way back to where he had left Byakuya and the mod soul. Easing into his gigai with the familiarity of one used to constantly slipping in and out of fake bodies, Ichigo snickered.

"I see," Byakuya said as his companion took a moment to settle back into place. "So that was your plan."

The grin that stretched his companion's face was a sight more welcome than the recent melancholy. "Who wants to bet that the moment he wakes up, he sends a report to Soul Society about an unknown Vizard running wild around Karakura?" the younger man asked as he led Byakuya away from the scene of the crime.

As they passed, Zennosuke's feet could be seen faintly twitching where they stuck out of the bush, leaves swishing as he trembled in fear.

Byakuya shook his head. He faintly noticed that they were leaving the center of the shopping district to the outskirts of Karakura, away from the crowds.

"He should have at least recognized Kurosaki-taichou on sight," the other captain responded, entirely deadpan. "If he hasn't, then his incompetence is certainly not our fault."

"See?" Ichigo countered with a snort, waving one hand in the air. "No one believes me when I tell them you have a sense of humor."

"I can't imagine why," the Kuchiki heir responded with a straight face.

Ichigo chuckled then noticed something of importance, nudging him with a shoulder. He lifted one hand, gesturing towards a large structure to their left. It was made of brick and appeared quite busy, people coming in and out of the wide double doors in the front.

"That's Karin's bureau," he explained as Byakuya's eyes wandered over the unfamiliar building. "She's probably on a case though."

Byakuya did a quick sweep with his reiatsu. "I don't sense her inside, so that is likely."

"She usually doesn't mind visitors," Ichigo added as they passed the bureau and continued, leaving the last remnants of the shopping district and heading towards a more residential area. "Though she hates it when Toushirou stops by in his gigai." A quiet snicker escaped him. "They think he's her son."

Byakuya felt his lips twitch. "To be expected, considering their situation."

"At least with Yuzu and Hanatarou, he looks legal."

A noncommittal sound of agreement was Byakuya's response. A wind stirred, bringing with it a fresh breeze that chased away the pressing heat of the day. He wondered if it was just him that thought it far hotter in the living world than in Seireitei.

"Where are we going?" Byakuya questioned, noticing that they had been making a rather broad circle of the town and were now on the edge, near to the river.

Ichigo shrugged, hands returning to his pockets. "Nowhere in particular. Why?"

"Merely curious," he responded, thinking that this was actually rather pleasant.

A quiet walk with no purpose in mind, no expectations. He was there on vacation with no work to be done, no paperwork to sign. No one in Karakura was there to give Ichigo strange looks about his situation or to whisper behind his back.

Not unexpectedly, Byakuya was content. Simply allowing himself to be as they wandered further and further.

However, he suddenly narrowed his eyes, gaze flickering around. Something about this street looked familiar. A long and lonely stretch of road, lined on either side by trees. The tall length of power lines. Beyond leafy branches, he could make out houses in the background, deftly hidden by vegetation. It was different under the light of the sun but essentially the same. Nothing had changed. The bloodstain was gone, if it had ever been there at all.

Ichigo hadn't said it, but Byakuya was certain this was the place. It felt vaguely of old memories. Enough so that he almost believed that if he concentrated, he could still sense traces of their reiatsu.

It seemed so long ago, though to a Shinigami it was a bare breath in their lifespan. Less than fifty years had passed since that fateful moment when he and Renji had descended to Karakura to fetch his sister. He could still remember the look in Ichigo's eyes, untrained and unknowing, yet still standing proudly to protect his friend.

That determination hadn't faded, instead being applied to everything he did. Ichigo had been so very young, in both face and knowledge. He had swung a sword whose name he did not know, whose size was unprecedented. He had risked his life to protect a person he had only known for a few months.

He had known he was outmatched, or at least, he should have known. But he hadn't given up, had kept on fighting. Was going to keep fighting, even as he was bleeding on the ground, his life's blood pooling onto the wet pavement. Byakuya wasn't entirely certain what stayed his hand back then, what kept him from deleting the last evidence of Ichigo's life.

Maybe it had been Rukia's request, her silent pleading. Perhaps he had seen something in those eyes that he couldn't bring himself to extinguish. It was possible that a part of him thought it far more painful to leave the boy behind, beaten and destroyed before he lost his life. It was the first actual rebellion he had made against his orders concerning Rukia and her transgressions, leaving Ichigo alive.

Or maybe Fate had intervened then, too.

Without Ichigo, they might have lost the whole war. No, in all painful honesty, they _would_ have lost the war.

Ichigo didn't think he was a hero; it simply wasn't in his personality to believe such a thing. But that was the truth, and every high-ranking Shinigami in Seireitei knew it. Everyone in Seireitei knew it. Ichigo had done what needed to be done, and that was what he would be the first to tell you. But there were few who could have taken his place. If any at all.

His determination was like a rallying cry for the others, dragging them from their apathetic arrogance and forcing them to the front lines. Ichigo could inspire strength in them like none other. Aizen might have had the ability to bring out the loyalty in his Arrancar, but Ichigo _was_ charisma. Like an undeniable gravitation.

Ichigo was a full Shinigami now and a Vizard as well. He had matured in the past forty years, had grown from that naively determined teenager. But really, not much had changed. He still fought for his own beliefs, still stood up for his own honor. He was still very much the same boy he had been in some ways, determined to the bitter end. For anything. Everything.

"It's strange being back," Ichigo said softly, voice breaking into the comfortable silence they had settled into. "How things are different and so much the same."

He must have recognized then, just exactly where they were.

"Time _does_ pass differently for a Shinigami," Byakuya responded. "Time does not flow here as it does in Seireitei. The length of a year means next to nothing."

Ichigo lifted his head from where he had been watching the sidewalk beneath them, cracked and faded but still the same. "Yes, I know. But it's still weird. I look the same as I did since the war. I haven't aged a bit." He paused. "My little sisters could be my mother; that's the difference in our ages. And even the old man looks two steps away from the grave, though he's still pretty spry."

He supposed that for Ichigo, all of that would be very strange. While he had grown accustomed to living in Seireitei, part of Ichigo was still very much human. It was evident in some of the things he often offhandedly said, in some of the ways that he viewed certain things.

"I have wondered why Isshin just doesn't return," Byakuya mused aloud, tucking a lock of escaped hair behind his ear, and though it was a ridiculous looking object, he rather missed his Kenseikan at the moment. "It is obvious that his gigai has aged past the natural assumed… expiration date."

Ichigo sniggered, giving him an amused look before he replaced it with something a bit more serious. "I think it's because of the geta-boushi."

He lifted a brow. "Oh? It is not as though Urahara is unable to return either. His exile was lifted after the war."

"I know that," Ichigo responded, inclining his head. "But he's not ready to let go yet. Ururu lived here."

Byakuya absorbed that particular detail, fully able to amend it in his mind. Ururu might have been in the living world, but Aizen Sousuke had been in Soul Society. Both places held equally painful memories for Urahara Kisuke. He could understand why the man had no inclination to hurry back to his old home.

"Besides," Ichigo added. "He and Yoruichi like 'slumming it.' Not to mention they don't have to worry about anyone else's opinion here. They answer to no one but themselves."

There was a note to Ichigo's voice. Almost wistful. And Byakuya knew they were about to delve into the topic that had been hanging over both their heads. It had been casually hiding behind Ichigo's relief at being home but was now daring to show his face as the reality of returning to Soul Society loomed.

"No matter how long Urahara waits, Seireitei is his home," Byakuya replied, his words having more than one meaning. "In the end, he will still return. And given time, his memories will ease."

There was a moment of silence, their footsteps against the pavement the only noise. Ichigo absorbed Byakuya's words, both about himself and Urahara.

In the distance, there was the sharp tone of some large clock chiming the hour of the day.

"I know," Ichigo finally responded, eyes falling to the ground. "And he probably knows that, too. But it doesn't mean that he doesn't wish things couldn't be different."

Byakuya lifted his gaze, eyes tracking a passing cloud above them. One of the few marring the otherwise pale sky.

"We can't erase the past," he offered. "We can only shape the future."

Another moment passed before Ichigo's lip curled. "You sound like one of those advice columns," he said with a chuckle. "Do they have a Dear Byakuya-bo section?" He changed his voice, to something more mocking and high-pitched. "Dear Byakuya-bo, my boyfriend turned into an evil overlord and tried to take over the universe. What should I do? Signed, Hat-kun."

Byakuya scowled. What was it with everyone giving him nicknames? He had a perfectly good name as it was.

Noticing his expression, Ichigo laughed. "What would you prefer Kuchiki-hime?"

"I would prefer Byakuya," he responded with a sour look. "Or in some cases, Kuchiki-taichou."

Ichigo chuckled again and then sighed wistfully. "I'm glad you're here, Byakushi."

Another one of those infernal nicknames. But Byakuya barely noticed. He was too busy trying to clamp down on the sudden thudding of something inside of him, and the subsequent burst of warm flutters.

"You didn't think I would?"

Ichigo shrugged, looking at Byakuya from the corner of his eye. "Well, I am just your brother-in-law, you know. You should probably be with your sister, but here you are with me."

With me.

That idiotic Zaraki voice in his head began to cackle again. ' _But he loves you more_ ,' the foolish and insane tone mocked.

It was as if Zaraki knew about the faint embarrassment that was suddenly rocketing through Byakuya. He was well aware that he was about to grin or blush like a damned lovesick fool. Make moony-eyes as Zaraki had so elegantly put it.

Byakuya had the sudden urge to make mincemeat out of a certain eleventh-division captain.

"The soutaichou insisted," the Kuchiki heir forced out, somehow managing to keep his voice even. He firmly ignored the burst of activity within him.

It was all Zaraki's fault.

"And why would he do that?"

Byakuya pulled off nonchalant rather well. "You would have to ask him," he answered mildly.

"Right. I'll get on that," Ichigo responded and tilted his head to look up at the sky, as if able to gauge the time by the position of the sun alone. "We should probably be getting back. I don't want to leave my children with Isshin any longer than necessary."

"With good reason."

Ichigo snorted, lowering his gaze and focusing on the streets around them, likely checking their route. "Goat-Face is a moron, but at least, he loves us... in his own insane version of reality." He paused, a thought furrowing his brow, before turning to look at Byakuya hopefully. "Tell me he was different as a captain."

The Kuchiki heir shot him a side long look, one that spoke volumes without him having to say anything at all.

"I was afraid of that." Ichigo sighed. "I only hope it's not genetic."

"Perhaps you were adopted," Byakuya suggested teasingly.

The Vizard gave a mock gasp. "Maybe Jyuushiro really is my father," Ichigo declared with false surprise.

"Indeed. The resemblance is uncanny."

Ichigo snorted again, an outward laugh escaping him. Byakuya was just glad to see that the lines of worry had all but vanished from his forehead, even if only for a short while.

"What does that make Toushirou? My little brother?"

Byakuya gave him a slanted look. "I suppose that would make Kira-san your okaa-san," he deadpanned, his voice not betraying any of his humor.

"Either that or Shunsui."

He placed one hand on his chin in deep thought. "There _is_ a slight resemblance," he mused aloud.

A shoulder knocked into his playfully. "There are worse people to resemble. Kenpachi for one. Or Renji."

Byakuya's lips twitched before he could stop them. "I only hope that his child takes after Orihime-san." In his mind, he couldn't erase the picture of an infant with Renji's wild and bright hair.

"With this color hair, I'm glad that my children escaped my fate." Ichigo ruffled a hand over his head demonstratively, sending the usually disarrayed strands into an even more disordered placement.

"You could always dye it."

But inwardly, Byakuya thought everything was just fine the way it was. He recognized, however, that Ichigo's hair had been a sore point for him as a child.

"What? And give Jyuushiro another mental breakdown?" He scoffed.

The older man inclined his head. "I admit that at first your appearance was... _unsettling_." Though that was a mild way to put it.

"Unsettling?" Ichigo repeated as if sensing Byakuya's thoughts. "Jyuushiro nearly had a heart attack. Or so I heard." He shrugged. "It's not my fault. Isshin claims that we're Shiba somewhere in there." He gestured vaguely.

"Somewhere in there?"

Ichigo shook his head. "It's Isshin. Don't expect much. He can't remember his own birthday, much less our lineage further back than his own grandfather."

"Too many blows to the head, I suspect."

Ichigo smirked, though the mirth faded as he changed subjects. "Still, I worry about when Kaien gets older. Not only for Jyuushiro's sake. His interest in being a Shinigami seems unstoppable. I'm not even sure he realizes that there are other options."

"What do you expect?" Byakuya questioned mildly. "He sees you and how much everyone admires you. He's proud of that?"

His companion scowled. "There's nothing to admire."

"There are many who think differently."

Ichigo scuffed a foot against the pavement. "I know. But--"

"Ichigoooooooo!"

Duck. Spin. Jab. Kick. Flip. Punch.

"Dammit, Goat-Face!"

Crash!

Byakuya felt a smile flit onto his face.

Just another typical day at the Kurosaki's.

* * *

 


	10. Disclosures

Ukitake Jyuushiro was not a man who easily abandoned those he considered dear to him. Given any circumstance, he considered himself rational enough to look at a situation from both sides of the issue. He discarded no one important to him, no matter their deed.

Rukia was no exception.

He still cared for her, despite the truth that had emerged. Anger had been his initial reaction, as well a hefty dose of confusion. It had been so hard to believe. For a couple like the Kurosaki's who had only ever seemed perfectly in love. He hadn't wanted to accept it.

But the truth had emerged into the light of day, and now, there was no use in pretending ignorance. He had already discovered that she had moved out of her home and was now staying in the vice-captain's quarters. Her children had been given some excuse as to her absence. Even more telling was that Ichigo had taken an extended vacation.

Without his wife.

There was little more confirmation Jyuushiro needed. Still, he wasn't going to abandon Rukia. He wanted to believe that there was more to the story than the rest of the populace was privy to. He certainly didn't condone her actions, but he couldn't just forsake her.

Disappointment had replaced most of his feelings.

It was for that reason that he had called her to his office, wanting to sort out the mess that had caused all of Seireitei to react. Shunsui had been purposely uninvited, his dear friend still infuriated by the truth.

Strangely enough, Shunsui was closer to Ichigo than to Rukia, and he was angry on the younger man's behalf since the fifth division captain couldn't seem to be that himself. Jyuushiro supposed that closeness had developed due to the fact he, Ichigo, and Kenpachi were frequent drinking buddies. Or at least, they had been before the birth of the twins and Rukia's subsequent increasing workload.

Shunsui's behavior was only a small sample of the effect this issue had had on Seireitei. Jyuushiro's own division was no less stirred. The lower seats and unseated Shinigami watched her, whispering and giving her strange looks. They still obeyed, some even more than they used to. As if afraid of violence on their person. But it was clear that they were aware of the rumors.

Kiyone and Sentarou avoided her, unable to meet her eyes whenever they were forced into the same room. Jyuushiro knew that his vice-captain, very dear to his heart, must feel ostracized. She certainly wasn't acting like someone proud of her deeds.

Rukia answered his summons promptly, stepping quietly into his office and sitting before him without speaking a word. She knelt on the other side of his desk, her hands folded in her lap, clasped tightly together. Her eyes were shunted off to the side.

It took him only seconds to register how very fatigued she seemed. Her shihakushou was clean and pressed, lacking all wrinkles, and she didn't appear unwashed. But she was tired, her usually youthful face looking as if she had aged ten human years in the past week or so. Dark circles lined once vibrant eyes, the happy sparkle having all but vanished.

It was obvious that she hadn't been getting near enough sleep. And he knew for certain she was doing even more work than before. He imagined that the amount of stress she was under at this moment was more than she had faced in the past thirty years put together.

He had asked her to come in here, but he was the one lacking the proper words to speak. He knew that he should begin the conversation but proper decorum failed him.

A painful look crossed over her face. "Ukitake-taichou, I..." she trailed off, hesitating greatly as she struggled to find something to say. "I... don't know what to tell you. I can't explain myself."

With the ice broken, shattered by her voice, Jyuushiro felt his own reaction pouring out of him before he could stop it.

"Do you even know why?" he pressed, the question spilling from his mouth more impolitely than he intended. He didn't want Rukia to feel as if she were being interrogated. "Why would you do this?"

"I don't know." She chewed her lip, misery sweeping from her in waves and so very evident in her leaking reiatsu. "And I know that's not what you want to hear. I should have a reason. But..."

Jyuushiro bit back a sigh, waiting patiently as frustration flitted briefly across her face. A frustration likely borne from the inability to speak as clearly as she needed to.

"I love Ichigo. I really do. But sometimes… it's like I can't stop myself," Rukia admitted, though the declaration didn't seem to make her feel any better.

The captain blinked. "Can't stop yourself?" he repeated, unable to keep the scorn from his tone.

It was the furthest thing from an excuse he had heard, not that he particularly wanted to hear any reasons. There was nothing that would make her behavior excusable. But he still needed to understand.

At the very least, he was somewhat relieved. He had only ever had to deal with this issue twice before in his entire time as captain. Both occasions had been of a husband beating his wife, and both times, the men had been remorseful they were caught. Neither had cared about the fact they abused their spouses, declaring that their wives had deserved it for some stupid reason or another.

Rukia displayed none of the same behavior, regret and guilt so evident in her face and reiatsu. It was clear that she wasn't proud of her deeds, and not because she had been discovered. But because of the pain it had put her husband through.

Nodding, Rukia's fingers twisted together. Jyuushiro could clearly see that her hands were white-knuckled. As if it took every effort for her to simply be there, talking about what no one had given her the time to explain.

"It was like this poison inside of me. I would get angry, and the next thing I knew..." she trailed off, dark blue eyes taking on a pained sheen. "I wanted to stop. I didn't like hurting him."

"Then, you should have told someone," Jyuushiro gritted out, trying and failing to clamp down on the roil of emotions inside of him. It was impossible for him to be objective, he was simply too close to the issue. "Asked for help."

Rukia chewed on her lip again. "That was why," she responded miserably. "I thought that if I distanced myself, put some space between us, then I might be able to stop."

"That's not a solution," he countered. "And all you succeeded in doing was hurting him more."

"It was the only thing I knew how to do!" she blurted out, almost desperately. Her eyes were beseeching, begging that her captain just listen and realize. She didn't want approval; she just wanted him to know, to understand.

Misery poured into her reiatsu, which she was quickly losing her control over, washing through the room. "I couldn't see myself telling someone that sort of thing. Help me stop hurting him! I didn't want anyone to know. For his sake, not mine." Rukia shook her head. "He never fought back. Never. And I honestly don't know if I really wanted him to."

"He was the closest target," Jyuushiro inserted softly, a tiny portion of her stilted confession making an odd sort of sense. Even though he didn't want it to.

"Maybe. I don't know." She clasped her hands together, obviously attempting to stop their frantic clutching. "This is all my fault. And now… now…"

"Now, he's the one bearing the brunt of it," Jyuushiro finished for her, sensing the direction she had planned on taking with her admission.

Rukia nodded. "I had hoped that it would never come to this. That I could fix whatever was wrong in me before something like this happened. Or if I couldn't then… then, I would leave."

Silence swept through the room as she looked back down at the polished wood of the floor. It seemed safer than having to meet her captain's eyes. He felt the shame that joined her sorrow, the conversation making it seem as if she had suddenly aged further.

Jyuushiro knew that if they could see her now, those that whispered and muttered and made assumptions, perhaps they wouldn't be as quick to point a finger. Maybe they would find reason to close their mouths and let a couple being torn apart solve their own ills.

She looked absolutely wretched, obviously berating herself at every waking moment for her behavior. Rukia looked as if she hated herself for Ichigo's pain. And perhaps she did. It was clear in every movement, every pained wince, that she still loved her husband. Her children. She didn't want to lose them.

But she also seemed resigned to the fact that there was little choice.

He wished he had something to say, something brilliant that would fix everything. But the words had failed him, just as they had been lately. He didn't have the answers. Rukia was his vice-captain, a person very dear to him. And yet, somehow, it had come to this.

Hadn't these children suffered enough?

"I said some things," Rukia began hesitantly, when it was clear he could not seem speak. "About Byakuya. I know he doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I'm not blind. And those two…" She hesitated, lifting her gaze to his. "They're such idiots."

"They have been for a long time now," Jyuushiro commented, knowing exactly what she meant. There was no need to pretend that he didn't. Not with things being the way they were.

Rukia's eyes dropped back town, her fingers beginning to wring together again until they were nearly white and bloodless. "It's so weird. He's my brother, and they don't even realize what they're doing. Wouldn't do it willingly."

"No, I don't imagine so. Ichigo loves you. And Byakuya, in his own way, does as well."

She inclined her head with a sigh. "I can't hate nii-sama because of everything he's done for me. And I could never hate Ichigo. But sometimes… sometimes, I resent Byakuya."

Jyuushiro ached for her in that moment, comprehension trickling inwards. "I imagine you would," he replied gently, feeling that he might be fathoming the situation more clearly than before.

"But that's not a reason," she said almost fiercely. "There's no excuse. And that's not one. It doesn't matter how I felt, even if it did seem I was an outsider in my own marriage. That's not an excuse."

His gaze met hers, relieved to find nothing but remorse in hers. "You're right. It's not." Jyuushiro shifted in his seat, wishing he had something better to offer. "There is no excuse, but perhaps with understanding might come… fixing, as you so elegantly put it."

"Understanding," she repeated, the word falling from her lips as if she had already considered that point and tossed it aside. "Understanding… and maybe the power to go back in time."

Jyuushiro tilted his head to the side, surprised by this admission. "To prevent this from ever happening?"

She sucked on her lip, shoulders bowing as if being pressed down by a great pressure. "I love my children, Ukitake-taichou. They are my heart, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. But sometimes, I wonder." She fell silent.

Jyuushiro furrowed his brow, uncertain what direction she was planning to take. "Rukia?"

His vice-captain sucked in a deep breath, her words coming out slowly and with great reluctance. "Sometimes, I regret marrying Ichigo."

Jyuushiro blinked. He certainly hadn't been expecting her to say that. Fortunately, she continued before he could even prompt her to.

"You've seen it. Everyone has. How are they together. They've loved each other longer than the both of them even realize." Her eyes dimmed with a different sort of sadness. "I wish that I had said no. That I had just shoved them together and forced them to acknowledge their feelings."

He supposed that they had always known about the strange relationship among husband, wife, and brother. And he should have realized that Rukia was aware of it as well. But for her to simply state that she had known all along was enough to completely baffle Jyuushiro.

He groped for something logical in his suddenly twisted and turned sideways world. "Do you think it would have worked?"

Rukia shook her head. "I don't know. But I wonder if he might have been happier that way."

"You can't say that for sure."

"No, I can't." She paused, a mix of emotions entangling in her reiatsu as a breath of cool air swished through the room. Not quite the power of Hitsugaya's Hyourinmaru but still tangible. "But then, I see the way they look at each other. And… dammit, I love him, too! Was it so wrong to want to be selfish for once?"

Jyuushiro trained his eyes on his subordinate. "Perhaps it is selfishness that has you here now."

"Maybe," she conceded, untangling her hands and restlessly running her palms against the hakama of her folded legs. "But Byakuya already has everything, and I thought that maybe I could just have a piece of that, too."

"And your children?"

Her eyes shimmered, but it was clear that she was making every effort to not lose control of her emotions. He imagined she probably felt very alone right now. Her friends had all but abandoned her, still uncertain of where their positions should be. Her brother had left with her husband for reasons neither male completely understood. And her captain was all but interrogating her. Even Kiyone and Sentarou, who had started to look up to her, were avoiding her as if she were Aizen incarnate.

"I want to say that they are the one thing I could never regret, but it would only be partially true. I wouldn't give them up now, but I never planned for the twins." She a hint of frustration laced her tone. "We were supposed to wait until at least Kaien was older."

With every passing breath, the situation was becoming clearer. It wasn't any more excusable, but Jyuushiro finally felt as if he were able to understand, at least in some small way. It made it easier for him remain her friend.

"Ichigo was happy when he found out, wasn't he?"

She exhaled, swiping at her face with the back of her hand. "He was thrilled. And I'm ashamed to say that he was far more pleased than I was."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," Jyuushiro responded. "I know that you love Mikan and Ryuu, even if they weren't expected." When her head gave at brief nod, he continued, "But they were a setback. Before you even had a chance to return to duty, you were taken off it again."

She shifted position, as if remembering with some discomfort being pregnant for the third time. Only to discover the extra burden of two rather one children inside her.

"Ichigo would never have let me return to active duty if there was even the slightest chance I might be injured in battle," Rukia said softly.

"I imagine not."

Her lips twisted into an almost fond smile, as if vaguely recalling a faint but happy memory, until it was all but wiped away. "It was so frustrating. Which is not an excuse. but it all built up. And before I knew it, he was the one suffering. I don't know. Maybe I just wanted him to share my pain."

Jyuushiro inclined his head, the press of emotions and regret in the room nearly suffocating. "What are you going to do now, Rukia?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out. I don't want to hurt him again." Fingers ran very gently through her hair, like the involuntary motion were comforting. "I thought distance would be enough, but maybe we need more than that."

"Like divorce?"

She swallowed thickly. "I don't want to lose him, but a part of me thinks that maybe I already have."

Knock! Knock!

"Ukitake-taichou?"

Kiyone's voice, sounding hesitant and reserved for once, poured through the door.

He cleared his throat. "I said I was not to be disturbed, Kiyone." His tone clearly expressed his displeasure, though it still kept the ring of being polite.

There was a pause.

"I know but Kurumadani-san has returned from patrol, and he won't stop babbling about a Vizard that he supposedly saw."

"A Vizard?" Jyuushiro frowned, musing over this pressing information.

It was possible that Zennosuke had merely imagined everything. He was still somewhat sore about sharing his duties with Karin. But Jyuushiro wasn't entirely willing to shove the man's complaint aside.

"I have duties that I must attend anyway," Rukia inserted, rising stiffly to her feet and brushing off her hakama, likely just giving her hands something to do.

Jyuushiro inclined his head. "Have him wait a moment, Kiyone," he called out before turning to look at his subordinate. "You can talk to me, Rukia. I am still your captain. And your friend."

A look of what could only be described as great relief washed over her, the stress in her shoulders easing by a bare fraction. "Thank you for listening, Ukitake-taichou," she responded, a touch of thickness in her voice.

The bow that followed was so painfully formal that he felt his own heart clench. They had a long way to go if they ever expected their relationship to return to its prior comfort level.

He watched as Rukia turned to leave, sliding the door open. Silence greeted her, Kiyone's eyes carefully shuttered to the ground. Rukia pretended not to notice, though Jyuushiro could clearly see her shoulders stiffen and tighten with tension. Kiyone stepped aside, making room for her pass and Rukia did, disappearing towards her office most likely.

Jyuushiro directed his attention towards his third-seat. "Well, send him in." He tried not to let his annoyance show through. Kiyone could not help her actions. She was as confused as the rest of the division, uncertain what to make of the situation.

Kiyone nodded jerkily and soon Zennosuke was bounding in, looking quite harried. And was that a leaf he saw in the man's large hair?

He had the feeling it was going to be an interesting conversation.

* * *

Ichigo and Byakuya's vacation ended with the reality of a captain's meeting. They had enough time to drop the children off at Ichigo's house in the steady care of their nanny and retrieve their haori. Luckily, all four of the kids were much too worn out to really pay attention to their surroundings, quickly dropping off into naps.

The Kuchiki heir didn't fail to notice the subtle stiffening in Ichigo's stance, the wary way he glanced around them, practically waiting for the stares and the whispers to begin. The vacation had been good for him, pulling him several strides away from the edge. But it would take a long time before the rumors would even begin to die down.

They were the last to arrive to the meeting, stepping in just as the low dong echoed through Soul Society to signify the hour. Ichigo entered first, slightly hesitant in his movements. Byakuya didn't blame him.

Stepping in behind his companion, Byakuya first happened to lay his eyes on Zaraki Kenpachi. Completely by accident. The eleventh division captain grinned like a damned fool, his single visible eye flickering between Ichigo and Byakuya. The Kuchiki heir almost swore that the man's eyebrow was wiggling in a licentious manner.

He was reminded of every moment in the past week when the idiot's voice had cackled in his mind, constantly bringing up the single but defining statement in their unwanted conversation. Every time Ichigo had spoken to him, every time the other captain had smiled, Kenpachi's voice had echoed in Byakuya's mind. Taunting him. Mocking him with his denial.

He had lived for an entire week with Zaraki Kenpachi in his brain.

Anger tightened swiftly in Byakuya, though it wasn't noticeable behind his usual calm mask. He could still hear it.

' _But he loves you more._ '

Over and over, accompanied by Zaraki's laughter and smug smile.

And then, before he knew entirely what he was doing, Byakuya strode into the chambers and stood before the man in a manner of seconds. The other Shinigami barely had a second to blink before Byakuya's hand balled into a fist. And he struck Zaraki full in the face, rather satisfied with himself when he felt an echoing crunch.

Silence abruptly swept through the room as everyone turned to regard this spectacle with mixed horror, amusement, and confusion.

Zaraki's head snapped back as blood dripped from his nose, likely broken, but the smirk that stretched across his lips only widened. He looked down at Byakuya with that one eye, entirely knowing, and it only made the Kuchiki heir angrier.

His hand dropped to his side as he resisted the urge to strike the annoying bastard once more, suddenly well aware of their audience. It had been a complete impulse to punch Zaraki. Retribution for the headache he had been forced to suffer his entire vacation. Yet, the smug moron didn't seem the least bit concerned.

"Kuchiki-taichou! What is the meaning of this?" Yamamoto-soutaichou demanded as he rose to his feet, staff rapping on the floor in an attempt to gather everyone's attention.

"Oh, dear." Isane-san was already muttering as she moved to Zaraki's side, reaching up to gently heal the shattered nose.

Zaraki merely grinned around the blood dripping from his nostrils. "Nothin', Yama-jii," he responded, never taking his eye off Byakuya. "Just a disagreement between hime and me." Healing tingles spread through his face, easing the damaged cartilage. "Hits pretty hard for such a prissy bastard."

The man was treated to the full force of a Kuchiki glare as Byakuya whirled primly on his heels and strode to his usual place in line. His scarf swished around him in a dramatic fashion as he firmly ignored the odd stares of everyone around him.

Ichigo, however, gaze him a strange look where he stood just diagonally and across from Byakuya. He knew that Ichigo was probably wondering just what the hell that particular attack had been about, especially since it was so out of character. The Kuchiki heir had silently responded that he would explain later, and Ichigo seemed satisfied, though still dumbfounded.

Next to the sixth-division captain, Shunsui snorted. "Flirting," he sing-songed under his breath, shooting his neighbor a pointed glance.

Byakuya stiffened, gifting the older man with the same glare he had already given Zaraki. However, Shunsui was entirely unflustered, returning with a wide grin and a slow wink that was not subtle in the slightest. Green eyes gleamed with knowledge. Byakuya firmly ignored him, sweeping his gaze over the other captains. Most were watching him, their eyes flickering between he and Ichigo. Renji and Kira-san especially gifted him with knowing looks, a slow and almost mocking smile curling on his former subordinate's lips.

Dear Kami, it was as if they had all been infected with Zaraki's stupidity. Were all the captains on the same wavelength, claiming to have this realization that Byakuya was stealthily eluding? Had they all decided the same nonsense that Zaraki had tried to drill into his brain?

The thought sent a startled jerk through him, along with a tint of mortification. A very, very small part of him was reluctantly beginning to wonder.

"If there are going to be no further _disagreements_ , I will begin the meeting," Yamamoto rumbled from his position at the head of the room. Aged eyes swept a warning amongst his gathered underlings.

The low murmur of conversation that had begun quieted, and they formed the proper lines. Ichigo still smirked, however, as Zaraki casually swiped his sleeve over the blood on his face, wiping it away. Shaking her head in disapproval, Isane stepped back into place.

The meeting began.

Ichigo was quick to tune out the old fart's blather. He had learned long ago that most of what Yamamoto said was unnecessary and unimportant. He had somehow managed to develop a skill of filtering out the necessities, picking up what he really needed to learn. He suspected that the old geezer was getting senile. Though honestly, he had lost none of his interrogating skills.

Instead, Ichigo found his gaze wandering to the gathered captains, a nostalgia creeping over him. He was reminded of the war as he found positions that had changed and those that hadn't.

Soifon was stone-faced as usual, a quiet sniff the only evident sign of her disapproval for Byakuya's actions. She had emerged mostly unscathed from the war, retaining her surly personality and arrogance. While she had lost her vice-captain early on, she was adapting well to the replacement. Ichigo suspected that if she had lost Yoruichi, a larger change would have been evident. He doubted there was anything Soifon cared for other than her duty and the Shihouin heir.

Next to her, Isane stood where Unohana had once been, having taken over the fourth after her mentor's death. During the war, she had shown an astounding capacity for holding together under pressure. And later, she had selected Hanatarou as her second, completely bypassing Iemura, something no one had questioned. Not even the third-seat himself. He seemed perfectly content with the decision.

On the other side of Byakuya, Shunsui looked as if he were falling asleep on his feet, which was nothing unusual. He never paid any attention to the old man, unless he was suddenly called upon for comment. Then, he would spring awake like he had never been sleeping at all, a quick retort easily passing through his lips. And he always seemed knowledgeable about the current topic.

Toushirou silently mocked Yamamoto where he stood, hands folded over his chest and rolling his eyes occasionally. He got away with it simply because Shunsui's bulk hid him from the old man's view. Like Ichigo, he had no patience for the often drawn out and pointless meetings.

Hitsugaya's tenth had mostly emerged unscathed from the war with only a few of his unseated officers lost. But while his division had held together, Toushirou's childhood companion had not. Hinamori had flown into a fit of rage and insanity after hearing of her former captain's death. To this day, she still maintained the belief that he had been led astray by Ichimaru, and she could still not see how much her delusions upset her childhood friend. If it hadn't been for Karin, Ichigo wasn't certain Toushirou would have ever been pulled from his melancholic funk.

Next to Hitsugaya, Akon was the only one avidly listening to Yamamoto. Ichigo couldn't figure out why. Perhaps he feared meeting Kurotsuchi's fate and had resolved not to be the least liked member of the Gotei 13. He still had not chosen a vice-captain, which Ichigo couldn't really fault him for.

On Ichigo's right, Izuru shot him odd looks from the corner of his eyes. During the war, the blond had proven his mettle, standing straight and strong. He had blazed onto the battlefield, determination alit on his face, and an astounding bankai at his back. Apparently, when everyone thought he had been moping and feeling sorry for himself, he had been training with a fury that rivaled Renji's own.

Afterwards, he had been awarded leadership over the third division, which he accepted with much humility. And during that time, he had discovered an even greater gift, the relationship he now shared with Jyuushiro. Ichigo wasn't entirely sure how that had come about, but it was clear that the both of them were much happier and clearly the better for it.

On Ichigo's other side, Renji fiddled with his haori and made no effort to show that he was listening. Meetings bored him as much as they did Ichigo himself, but that didn't stop the redhead from shooting his former captain strange looks. Some of these were transferred onto Ichigo as well. The Vizard could only assume that it was due to the rumors that had been spreading through Seireitei like a wildfire before his vacation.

He hadn't spoken to Renji since the morning the redhead had invited himself over. Admittedly, he had left the very next day and there hadn't been a chance. That was a confrontation just waiting in the wings. Ichigo was still rather sore with his friend, angered that Renji would even make such a suggestion. He knew that the other man was probably just confused and wanting to understand, but that was no excuse for him having as little tact as Ikkaku.

On the other side of Renji, the new head of the ninth seemed bored, still not used to having to attend organized meetings and absolutely hating her paperwork. Yadoumaru Lisa was one of the few surviving Vizard, the only one to return. She had promptly taken command of the ninth, much to Shuuhei's dismay. It seemed that she constantly asked him for a demonstration of the skills he so proudly displayed on his face. That was, when she wasn't following Jyuushiro and Izuru around, hoping to get a live glimpse of the stuff she read in the manga she brought in from the living world.

Ichigo pitied Shuuhei, he really did. The vice-captain was proving remarkably resilient, however. And the ninth division was finally beginning to flourish.

Kenpachi, meanwhile, boredly looked around the room, idly scratching himself. He never listened to Yamamoto either, though he was still faintly grinning. It was as if his nose being broken by Byakuya was an everyday occurrence; Ichigo still wanted to know what that was about.

And lastly, Jyuushiro put on a rather good masquerade of pretending to listen to the captain-commander. In reality, he was probably imagining any number of things, possibly planning the arrangement of his office.

"A more pressing manner has been called to my attention."

Yamamoto's drone pierced Ichigo's inner musings, and he stirred. He registered that this seemed important and straightened, paying attention as the old man continued. He noticed that several others were doing the same.

"Several divisions have recently reported sightings of abnormal Hollows, including what appears to be various Adjuchas class."

"Arrancar?" Hitsugaya asked, no longer mocking. His aquamarine eyes had sharpened in his interest.

The captain-commander shook his head, the look in his eyes grave. "None that we know of," he rumbled. "But that does not discount the possibility."

Izuru stirred. "Is it related to Aizen?" he asked the question that was probably first and foremost on all the gathered captains' minds.

At the sound of his former nemesis, Ichigo straightened, the war suddenly fresh in his thoughts. He recalled the manner of creatures Aizen had thrown at them, the twisted and gnarled forms, no longer resembling the pale, vaguely animalized Hollows he had constantly faced before. Their skills had been as strange as they were deadly, poisons and acids and barbed projectiles.

A good many Shinigami had fallen to surprise attacks, Hollows that could mask their reiatsu and appear from nowhere. Hollows that could cut through space, stepping out of obscurity. The thought of facing these again, that there were more out there, was subduing. And Yamamoto knew it.

"Most likely," he responded in a tight voice. "I've sent someone to speak with Ichimaru on the matter to see if he has any idea what may have caused this."

Shunsui stirred, pushing his hat up. "What did he say, Yama-jii?"

Fingers tightened briefly around the curve of his staff. "Ichimaru claimed that he vaguely recalls plans for another base in Hueco Mundo, but he isn't certain that it was a clear memory. Or even if Aizen had even completed it. The location was something not even he was privy to."

"Not to mention Aizen coulda just been testin' his loyalty," Kenpachi inserted logically. "With that fucked up bankai of his. Especially if he saw it after he was already startin' ta switch sides."

The old man inclined his head. "That is certainly a possibility. Regardless, we can't ignore their presence. They are rather organized. I suspect that a Vasto Lorde may be leading them. I am asking for a volunteer division to take increased patrols."

All of the captains shifted uneasily at the mention of a Vasto Lorde, especially Ichigo. He remembered all too well fighting one of his own, very nearly losing his life. It had been a trial, far more than he had anticipated, thinking that the Espada would be more powerful. But the damn thing had been strong, far stronger than Grimmjow though not Ulquiorra.

Jyuushiro stepped out of the line and into Yamamoto's sight. "The thirteenth is ready, Genryuusai-sensei. We have completed reshuffling our positions. As the other divisions finish, they can begin to assist us."

The captain-commander nodded his acceptance. "Very well." He swept his gaze around. "Is there anything else to add?"

When no one spoke, Yamamoto launched into the next topic on his agenda. It had something to do with the current influx of Academy students and how they might be properly integrated into the divisions. None of it concerned Ichigo since that was mostly the first and the seventh division's problem, and he tuned Yamamoto out.

His mind churned over the news of the Hollows, chewing on the startling and worrisome information. He wondered if this had been Aizen's plan, if he should ever fall, to release a stockpile of his brutal minions to wreak havoc on a victorious Soul Society. He wouldn't put it past the conniving man. Aizen, though it pained him to admit, was far from stupid and damn near a genius.

The Vasto Lorde were powerful, their defeat something no simple Shinigami could accomplish. There were perhaps a handful of them, most in the meeting with him, who were capable of doing so.

He could recall clearly their power.

Two had been protecting Aizen when he, Byakuya, and Shinji had stormed into the deepest portions of Las Noches. Having finally found the traitor, they weren't willing to let their prey escape. The war had dragged on for too long. Too many lives had been lost. Which meant they would have to split up. Aizen was cornered but wouldn't stay that way for long.

Shinji had taken them both on by himself, urging Ichigo and Byakuya on ahead of him. Ichigo hadn't been able to witness the fight, but he knew that Shinji had fallen, managing to take the last Vasto Lorde with him.

Ichigo remembered that damn fool with some fondness. Shinji had known he was going to die, and a part of him simply didn't care. So many of his siblings had already fallen in a war he should have cared nothing about. Like Hiyori. The spunky blonde had been defeated by the third Espada, who had then been subsequently ripped apart by Urahara. Ichigo didn't think he had ever seen the geta-boushi with such an expression, a mixture of absolute fury and a total sorrow that ached through his entire existence.

The entire war had been fought as Urahara and Aizen pitting their soldiers one against the other, playing out their tactics and watching as they succeeded or failed. Yet, the final battle had been Ichigo and Byakuya against the man who wanted to be king. Urahara had taken no part in that last conflict. Ichigo strongly suspected that the man would have been incapable of lifting a zanpakutou directly against the man he loved.

"And lastly on our agenda today, there's been a reported sight of an unknown Vizard in Karakura town."

Both Lisa and Ichigo straightened at that, though for different reasons. The latter had a memory tickling at the edges of his mind, causing his lips to quirk entirely without his permission.

Then, that aged gaze swung his way. "Do you have any knowledge of this, Kurosaki-taichou?"

Ichigo froze.

Across the room, Byakuya snorted before he could stop himself.

"Do you have something to say, Kuchiki-taichou?" Yamamoto demanded, swinging his attention to his other side.

"I assure you, soutaichou. The problem has been officially dealt with," Byakuya responded as stone-faced as ever, his mask carefully shielding the amusement sifting beneath the surface.

The captain-commander did not seem convinced. "I trust there will be no repeats of this incident?" he asked, clearly showing that he knew more than he was letting on.

Crafty old bastard.

Ichigo coughed into his hand, pretending nonchalance. "No, sir. None at all."

Yamamoto's eyes were appraising, but apparently, he didn't think it worth his time to discuss the matter further. "Very well. Ukitake-taichou, meet with me to discuss the patrol schedule. The rest of you, dismissed."

All too relieved to be away from the meeting, there was something as close to a stampede that a near dozen of refined captains could perform as they left the first division chambers. Ichigo was in the midst of contemplating a nap and returning home to get his children settled. Yumichika could wait another twelve hours for him to return in the morning. He also had plans to corner Byakuya and question him about the Kenpachi incident.

However, he was stopped part of the way towards his own division by Shunsui, the man executing one of his lazy smirks.

"What was that about?" he asked, drawing up beside his younger friend.

Ichigo knew in a moment what he was referring to. "I was making sure Zennosuke was being vigilant."

Two brows lifted. "By attacking him and beating him up?"

Indignation roused heartily inside of Ichigo. "He got those injuries falling off a roof. I didn't touch him," he retorted, but inwardly, he was amused.

Shunsui seemed to be as well, smirking. "The way he described it, he damn near fought Aizen incarnate."

"I said 'boo,'" Ichigo countered, rolling his eyes.

"I thought so." The older captain chuckled.

Ichigo merely looked at him, finally remembering. "So... Kaien's been telling me about hugs of love."

Shunsui nearly choked on his laughter, eyes widening. He suddenly looked up and all around them, as if searching for an exit.

"Hmm. It's getting late. Look at the time. And Nanao-chan is calling me. I must be going off."

He shot off, hurrying faster than a man of his size seemed capable. His escape was thwarted though as Ichigo very calmly placed one foot on a flapping pink haori, trapping it. Shunsui ground to a halt and jerked backwards, casting a nervous look over his shoulder.

In a very polite, chilly voice that he could have borrowed from Byakuya, Ichigo said, "I'm sure Ise-fukutaichou won't mind the delay. Now, where were we?" Brown eyes flashed with just the barest hint of gold.

Shunsui was quick to learn a very valuable lesson.

Never anger a father. Especially one who had discovered his Hollow side.

* * *

 


	11. Of Reunions

Orihime's baby shower was the day after Ichigo's return to Soul Society, held after most of the captains would be off duty. Taking place in the seventh division, Ichigo had been surprised by the cheery décor within. It had to have taken someone several hours to turn the plain room into a startling display of happiness, Orihime-style.

Streamers, balloons, and glitter sparkled in every corner. There were tables piled high with food, some of them an interesting concoction of flavors that Ichigo didn't dare try. Another table was collecting an impressive stack of presents, growing higher as more guests trickled in. The main hall was literally packed with regular citizens and Shinigami, some that Ichigo knew, some that he didn't. The latter were probably those hoping to get in good graces with the captains, desiring a high position.

Not that Orihime really cared. She was always willing to have more friends.

Ichigo had been one of the first to arrive, luckily with Byakuya at his side. He had four kids, after all; he really needed four hands and eight eyes to keep them all under control. He had debated at first on actually bringing them. He didn't know if Rukia would be there, blowing the cover she had given.

In the end, he decided to risk it. He didn't want to leave them behind with Tohru because many people were looking forward to seeing them. If push came to shove, he could always find some way to distract them or leave early. Or something. If necessary, he would complete the difficult task of telling them the truth.

In any case, after his arrival, he was promptly swamped by Jyuushiro and Shunsui, the two of them taking a twin and escaping before he could even make a protest. Kaien slipped out from under his grasp like some sort of sneaky ninja and went running for his supposedly favorite uncle. Seconds later, a cry of surprise rose up as Kaien nearly attacked Renji's leg. No worries there.

Syaoran was the only one who hovered close, clinging to Byakuya's side. Ichigo noticed she had been doing that a lot lately. Either staying near to him or wanting to spend time with her uncle. She had always been more intuitive than her older brother.

Ichigo swept his gaze over the rapidly growing crowd, all dressed in their casual clothing. He idly wondered why Orihime hadn't come to greet him yet. Admittedly, she had been busy making sure things were set up properly and flitting around like a butterfly. He half-contemplated finding her and letting her know--

"Ichigo-kun!"

There was a flash of reddish-orange hair, his only warning before he was tackled around the mid-section by Orihime. Only his great reflexes kept the both of them from falling to the floor as she wrapped her arms around him in greeting, a first-class attack of affection if he ever saw one. He would have been annoyed if he weren't already used to it.

"You came!" she announced, tears shimmering in her eyes as she gave him a quick squeeze.

He gingerly returned the hug, patting her gently on the back. "You didn't think I would?"

She looked up at him, face pinched with a mixture of worry and relief. "I thought you would still be on vacation."

"Didn't Renji tell you I was at the captain's meeting?"

Her arms briefly tightened around his waist as she chewed on her lip, obviously trying to recall something to that effect. There was a muffled noise just behind him, coming from Byakuya. It had better not have been laughter, or he was siccing Orihime on him next. The look on Byakuya's face when he was hugged was absolutely priceless, though Orihime attacked him far less than she did Ichigo.

"He might have mentioned _something_ ," the woman finally conceded before releasing her lip and looking up at him with a stern expression. "But that doesn't mean I wasn't worried. You didn't tell anyone you were leaving."

He had the feeling of being scolded when she took that tone with him. And honestly, Renji would attempt to rip him a new one if he upset the man's pregnant wife.

Ichigo sought to quickly diffuse her worry. "I'm sorry, but it was doctor's orders. I didn't really plan for it." He rubbed the back of his head, carefully extricating himself from her arms.

Instantly, the worry was wiped away, and she nodded in understanding, tucking her arms over a barely noticeable bump. "That's okay. You still made it for my party." Orihime tilted her head to the side, grey eyes searching. "You look better."

He wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or a slight to his appearance earlier. But it was Orihime, so he let it slide. She was always uniquely honest, and no matter what, he could count on her. She meant well, despite being half off her rocker most of the time.

"Thanks, Orihime. That means a lot."

She looked on the verge of something else, until her wandering gaze caught sight of his daughter. "You're welc-- Syaoran-chan!" she squealed in excitement, gushing happily. "Wow. You look so pretty."

His daughter ever-so-gracefully and demurely looked at the floor. "Thank you, Hime-oba-san." Trim fingers patted down her brand new kimono, elegantly stitched sakura tree branches and pink blossoms curling up the sides. She was ridiculously spoiled, much like all his children. "Byakuya-oji-san picked it out for me."

Orihime wasted no time in hugging Syaoran, nearly smothering his daughter in her enthusiastic embrace. "Awww. I hope my daughter is just like you."

"Don't pick her up, Hime." Renji's voice cut their conversation as he wandered over, hand tucked into a plain black yukata. "You know what Isane said."

She pouted but drew back, straightening until she stood. Orihime's eyes flickered back to Ichigo.

"I forgot to ask. How was your vacation?" she queried as her husband moved to stand beside her, towering over her shorter frame.

A hand settled gently on her shoulder, and she habitually stepped back into the affectionate touch. A pang of longing stabbed through Ichigo at the sight. He and Rukia used to be like that, unconsciously exchanging endearments, giving into any excuse to touch each other, even if it was purely innocent.

He could clearly remember cornering her in places, surprising her with a brief kiss to the sensitive spot on her neck, just below her ears. She would always playfully yell at him to stop, but her eyes would sparkle. It was almost like a game.

Those days seemed like so long ago, sending a painful stab of reminiscence through his heart. He ferociously fought down the echoes of yearning, forcing himself to appear as if nothing was wrong. He didn't want either Renji or Orihime to become uncomfortable or think they needed to hold back in his presence. His life turning to shit around him had nothing to do with them.

He executed a nonchalant shrug. "Goat-Face is still alive and kicking. Tatsuki wants you to call her or something."

Even as he spoke however, his eyes had flickered over Renji. The other captain was looking a bit embarrassed, as if remembering their last conversation. Good. The bastard. He should have known better than the things he had said. Ichigo was all for letting the man stew in his humiliation.

Orihime shook her head, looking a tad ashamed of herself. "I've just been so busy that I nearly forgot to tell her I'm pregnant."

"Hime," Renji inserted patiently, squeezing his hand briefly on her shoulder, and Ichigo tried not to give them an envious look. "Kiyone's been looking for you. She mumbled something about pickles and strawberry frosting."

A look of complete hunger stole over Orihime's expression. "Thank, kami," she breathed, rubbing her stomach in appreciation. "I just had this _craving_." She turned and swept her gaze over the gathered crowd, spying Kiyone and immediately hurrying up without so much as a by-your-leave.

Renji shook his head, watching his wife's departure with a fond expression on his face. "I can't keep up with her strange cravings."

"You've still got a long way to go," Ichigo responded curtly, all politeness gone now that Orihime had left. He wasn't going to upset her.

Nearby, Byakuya stirred, perhaps sensing the strange tension filling the air. Ichigo heard him murmur something to Syaoran, which sounded like a suggestion for cookies before deftly steering her away from the other two men. His daughter was quick to comply, the prospect of one of her favorite sweets too intriguing to ignore.

Once they left, Renji sighed and visibly fidgeted. "Dammit, Ichigo," he cursed. "Don't be like that."

"And how do you want me to be," Ichigo put in shortly, still annoyed over what had happened a week ago. "She's my wife."

Renji shifted position, sandals tapping against the tile. "I know." His fingers raked through his hair, an action Ichigo recognized as a nervous twitch. "And I was just a bit shocked. I wasn't thinkin' straight."

"Obviously," Ichigo snorted. "You're supposed to be her _friend_ , Renji. Not like all these other bastards around here that are judging her."

"And I'm your friend, too," Renji insisted a bit forcefully. "I don't know who I'm supposed ta side with."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest defensively. "Try no one," he bit back. "It's none of your business. There aren't any fucking sides."

Silence pulsed between them, awkward and heavy. Ichigo sucked in a deep breath, trying to force himself into something similar to calm. His reiatsu was attempting to swirl wildly around him and a nearby table of drinks rattled. Before anyone grew concerned, he abruptly reined it in.

Renji watched him for a moment, face unreadable. "Aren't ya angry at all?" he questioned, as if clearly confused as to why Ichigo was the only one who wasn't pissed off at the situation.

"Right now, I'm pretty pissed at you," Ichigo muttered, turning on his heels and focusing his stare at the refreshments though he didn't actually see any of them.

He was doing his utmost best to pretend he wasn't having an argument with Orihime's husband at her baby shower. People were already glancing their way, a few moving aside as if expecting a zanpakutou battle to suddenly occur. He didn't want to see them, didn't want to hear them. Everything. The voices and the stares. He was only back for a couple days, and he was already sick of them.

"Well, forgive me for fuckin' caring," Renji snapped back, losing his own patience. A thread of hurt wormed its way into his words, however, and Ichigo did not fail to notice it. "Next time, I ought not ta bother."

Sighing, Ichigo scrubbed a hand down his face. He knew that Renji was probably just as confused as most of his and Rukia's friends. No one could seem to figure out just where to stand, regardless of the fact that there was not a side to choose. They were going to draw their own lines, forgoing anything Ichigo might have to say. He didn't want anyone to turn on Rukia, but they were doing it anyway. The whispers weren't only about himself, after all, but her as well. And what they said about Rukia was far more vicious and painful than the humiliating rumors about himself.

Dammit. This was the reason why he never wanted anyone to know. Outside of the fact he could solve his own fucking problems, he hadn't wanted this to happen. It was something they could solve themselves. Her pain was just as much his pain. In more ways than one.

Ichigo sucked in a deep breath, forcing out the irritation and anger, leaving him feeling strangely wrung out and fatigued. It was no use taking out his feelings on Renji.

"It's no one's business but our own," he finally said, mindlessly scooping something up from the delicately baked goodies on the table. Frosted sugar crunched beneath his fingers.

"Yer right," Renji rumbled. "And I know that yer right." He hesitated, struggling to find the proper words for something he probably should have said from the beginning. "I... uh… I didn't mean what I said 'bout her. I know that she wouldn't ever hurt the kids."

Ichigo sniffed. "Don't apologize to me."

The emotion was rapidly bleeding out of him, leaving him with nothing else. He couldn't be angry at Renji anymore, the man more of a convenient target. And he knew that Renji did care for Rukia and had likely been speaking out of concern. He supposed that he couldn't blame his friend for that much.

Nor could he blame Renji for the question. He had to admit, although very grudgingly, that it was a logical progression of thought.

"Right." Crimson eyes looked around them as the crackling tension slowly dissipated, though their friendship hadn't been entirely soothed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "So... we cool?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. Renji was such an idiot sometimes.

"Whatever. Go help your wife."

The awkward tension gone, Renji grinned. It didn't come as easily as it might have before, but it was there. That was good enough for Ichigo. He jerked his head into a nod and waded into the crowd.

A surge of relief washed through Ichigo, glad to find that particular confrontation over. He only hoped Renji's visit was not indicative of the path the rest of his afternoon would take. Glancing only briefly at the dessert he had picked up, Ichigo tossed it into his mouth and gravitated towards the drinks.

Selecting one of the strange fruit mixes, he washed down the overly sweet cookie. He wished that the liquid had contained alcohol. He had a feeling he would need to be a bit numb to properly survive this. Looking around, Ichigo realized that he might as well find Byakuya or one of his children. There was no use in standing by and being stared at.

Ichigo merged into the crowd, greeting what few people saw fit to recognize him. His eyes passed over Hanatarou, the healer giving him a smile from where he was deep in conversation with his captain. More people began to pour in the room, surprising Ichigo by the sheer numbers. He didn't even know that many people knew Orihime.

Then again, it was a political event. Another captain having a child. That was something to be celebrated in Seireitei. The baby shower was almost as important as a captain's meeting in terms of politics. Rukia's had been much the same, now that he thought about it.

In the background, soft music started playing, but Ichigo barely noticed. As he pretended to mingle, a few people stopped to talk to him like Jyuushiro, Izuru, and Yumichika. But otherwise, he was cleverly avoided. Eyes falling to the floor as if they hadn't seen him or joining other conversations quickly.

Everyone was avoiding discussing the gigantic Espada cackling over Ichigo's head like a certain blue-haired bastard. No one knew what to say, how to act, so they would rather not attempt conversation. It was easier to look away hurriedly, whisper rumors, mutter under their breaths than actually learn the truth.

Ichigo didn't know which he preferred.

He eventually found Byakuya, one hand clasped firmly on Syaoran, who was munching on a plain cookie, and in the midst of a discussion with his new vice-captain. Rikichi, who had never truly gotten over his hero worship of Renji, had been appointed to the second-seat a few years after the war. Not long after Renji had been given the seventh division. He had shown remarkable courage during the war. If only he hadn't adopted Renji's propensity for tattoos. Dark black lines were already starting to make their way down the boy's face.

As Ichigo approached, Rikichi executed a hasty bow towards his captain and hurried away, passing directly by Ichigo. He tipped his head at the Vizard and continued on.

Ichigo raised a brow, drawing up to his brother-in-law. "What was that about?" he asked, bending to pick up his daughter and hitch her on his hip. "What are you eating?"

"Cookie," she answered, holding it out to him. "Want some?"

He shook his head. "No thanks. I had one of my own."

She shrugged and bit into the baked item with a crunch, dribbling some sprinkles on his clothes. He hardly noticed. Ichigo turned his attention towards Byakuya, who was brushing crumbs from his sleeve.

"One of my lower seats was involved with an altercation after I had left for the day," Byakuya answered absentmindedly before deciding that he was satisfied with the state of his attire and looked up. "It involved someone from another division."

Ichigo furrowed his brow, idly fixing one of the barrettes in his daughter's hair. "And he needs your approval to handle it?"

A slight sigh escaped from the Kuchiki heir. "I believe this particular Shinigami may have been assigned to the wrong division. He is more suited to Zaraki's ruffians. Rikichi wanted permission to request a transfer."

Ichigo's lips twitched into a grin. "My vice-captain was one of those 'ruffians,'" he countered. "And so was Renji."

"Exactly," Byakuya responded with a hint of that humor that was oh-so-carefully hidden from the others.

"Kurosaki."

Ichigo and Byakuya turned in tandem to see Toushirou approaching, the crowd parting for him as he made his way towards them. Suspended in the air by the harsh grip on the back of his kimono, Kaien shot his father an almost sheepish look. Toushirou did not appear the least bit amused.

"I believe this belongs to you," Toushirou stated blandly, one eyebrow twitching in faint annoyance.

He deposited Kaien on his feet in front of his father, one hand lightly patting the unruly black strands. Toushirou gave no explanation as he turned on his heels and strode away, an annoyed clip to his step. Yet, the pat had been affectionate.

"Bye, Shirou-oji-san!" Kaien called out gamely, waving at his departing uncle.

Ichigo cleared his throat. His son started, glancing at him with an almost shame-faced expression. Amusement and mischief altered the look, however, making him appear not the least bit sorry.

Brown eyes pinned down his errant child. "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

The answer was far too quick to be believed.

Ichigo took another look. What appeared to be powdered sugar dusted his son's nose, and he had acquired as streak of dirt on his hakama somehow. One cheek looked reddened, likely a result from continued pinching. He stood with his hands behind his back, unrepentant in the slightest.

His father sighed, resisting the urge to pinch his nose. "Did you break anything?"

The stifled sound just behind him better not have been muffled laughter. He was going to catch Byakuya for that later. Including what might have been a chuckle during his conversation with Orihime.

Kaien lowered his eyes, toeing the ground. "No one liked that vase anyway," he mumbled barely loud enough for his father to hear. "And Renji-oji-san thanked me."

Syaoran sniffed elegantly as she looked at her brother. "Otou-chan? Is Kaien-nii-chan in trouble?" she asked in a tone of voice that clearly stated she knew for a fact he was and would delight in whatever punishment he was given.

Such rivalry between his children. He didn't quite understand it.

Ichigo exchanged a look with Byakuya, though he wasn't quite certain why. He knew a certain amount of punishment was in order and wondered just what he could inflict on his son. The boy never responded to verbal chastisement.

He never really got the chance.

Ikkaku appeared out of the crowd, Yumichika sparkling at his side. He had two bokken with him, both propped up over his shoulder. He sauntered towards Ichigo and Byakuya with a swagger, having obviously dismissed the last conversation he had with the former. It was a perfect Ikkaku response to tension; forget it had ever happened.

"Yo, squirt!" the perpetual third-seat greeted with a faint salute. "I thought we were going to work on some moves."

Kaien started as if remembering this and immediately turned sparkling, hopeful eyes onto his father. "Can I? Please?" He looked on the verge of groveling if necessary.

As much as Ichigo wanted to tell him no as punishment, he also didn't want to deal with Kaien's sulking for the rest of the afternoon. And Kaien would definitely pout. He wouldn't speak but would stand around, hands folded over his chest and bottom lip poked out. Everyone would know that he was very displeased. Ichigo couldn't figure out where the hell he had gotten that damn behavior from.

Sighing, Ichigo inclined his head. "Just be careful." It should alarm him that he felt safe sending his child with Ikkaku and two swords, but it didn't.

His son completely missed the warning. He was already scampering away, excitement adding an extra bounce to his steps. One hand was reaching for one of Ikkaku's bokken, grinning gleefully. Ichigo realized that he should probably just give up and let his son be the Shinigami that he wanted to be.

"Don't worry, Ichigo-kun," Yumichika consoled as he lingered a bit longer than his bald friend. Purple eyes were searching his captain's expression. "I'll keep an eye on them."

"Thanks, Yumichika."

The flirty vice-captain waved a hand of dismissal. "I've spent years looking after muscle-brained oafs. No need to stop now."

He moved away and melded back into the crowd, a sway and a sparkle in his step designed to attract any admiring eye, male or female. Yumichika always liked to keep his options open.

Ichigo shook his head, looking at his daughter. "Please tell me you don't want to be a Shinigami."

She smiled up at him sweetly, a few crumbs dotting her cheeks. "Of course not, tou-chan," she responded, her childish voice almost chiding. "I'm going to be a princess. Yumi-oji-san said so."

His friends were corrupting his kids. Every last one of them. Soon, Ryuu would be giving everyone frosty stares, and Mikan would be inventing strange things and building huge, rocky training areas.

"That could be arranged," Byakuya inserted with a fond look, studying Syaoran's hair.

Ichigo could practically see him imagining the Kenseikan.

The younger man turned, teasingly blocking her from his direct sight. "Oy. No making an heir of my daughter. No Kuchiki bullsh-- junk for her."

From the corner of his eye, he caught Byakuya folding his arms over his chest. "Someone has to be my heir," he stated simply, as if implying that it was Ichigo's responsibility to produce one.

"Or," Ichigo countered. "You could get married and have one of your own instead of trying to steal mine."

Byakuya sniffed elegantly. "Why bother?" he asked with an arched brow, reaching forward and soothing down Syaoran's hair. "You'll be my heir, won't you?"

She nodded beneath his hand, smiling amiably. "Will I be a princess?"

Shooting her father a smug look, Byakuya responded, "Of course, hime-sama."

Syaoran grinned and sat up in her father's arms, moving to look at him. "Can I be his heir, tou-chan?"

"Corrupting my children," Ichigo grumbled under his breath, recognizing when he had been beaten. "Between you and Renji, it's a wonder they respect me at all."

"I respect you tou-chan," his daughter replied. "I love you, too."

Despite himself, Ichigo warmed at the innocent statement. "Thank you, sweetheart," he responded, kissing her on the cheek. "At least someone does."

Syaoran giggled and squirmed in his hold. "Then, can I have some cake?

He should have known better, and Ichigo rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Yes. Let's go get some." He started towards the table, then paused and glanced over his shoulder at Byakuya. "Cake?"

"Come on, Byakushi-oji-san. We're getting cake."

Byakuya sighed as though it were a great concession and moved to join them, glanced around the crowd pointedly. "I might as well. If I do not, these strangers will consume it all."

They slipped into the gathered mass of Shinigami, officials, and general residents of Seireitei.

"I don't know half these people." Ichigo shook his head. "And I'm pretty sure Orihime doesn't either."

"It is the way of these things. I am sure Hitsugaya knows as well."

"I'm just waiting to hear that he and Karin have eloped," Ichigo countered, knowing full well that neither his sister nor the surly captain were that amenable to crowds or social events.

They particularly didn't like playing the political game, not that he did either. But when he had married Rukia, he couldn't just elope. She was a Kuchiki, after all. And Byakuya wouldn't have allowed it.

As they approached the long line of tables piled with refreshments and surrounded by smaller clusters of tables and chairs, Ichigo handed his daughter over to Byakuya. "I'll get the cake," he explained as his brother-in-law easily took her in hand. "Will you grab a table?"

Byakuya nodded.

Several minutes later, Ichigo found the two of them tucked away from the main crowd. He was carefully balancing three plates and two cups, finding it a miracle that he had managed not to drop or spill anything.

Syaoran was sitting at the table, kicking her feet beneath the elegant, white tablecloth. "It's so pretty," she admired as he set the dainty plate in front of her, a small piece of lacy and delicate cake upon it.

Ichigo set the small cup of juice he had brought for her off to the side. Brown eyes tracked his movement, and almost immediately, she wrinkled her nose. He was already expecting it.

"Does it have cherry in it?" his daughter asked with evident distaste.

Ichigo shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

Looking up at him as though demanding that he magically alter the juice to something more suitable to her tastes, Syaoran whined, "Tou-chan, I don't like cherry."

"You can hardly taste it," Byakuya inserted, taking a faint sip of his own. "It's fruit punch, Syaoran. It is a mixture of everything."

She remained skeptical, sniffing delicately at the drink before setting it aside. She pushed it away with her finger and picked up her fork, starting in on the cake.

Ichigo rolled his eyes at his daughter's behavior. Picking up his own plate, he took a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully, watching as Byakuya and Syaoran ate in the same demure and careful manner. Was she emulating him in everything?

Something twinged at his memory, reminding him that he hadn't had a chance to corner Byakuya about the incident at the captain's meeting. He hastily swallowed.

"So what was that about?"

Grey eyes flickered to him in surprise and confusion.

Ichigo gestured with a fist, miming the attack. "You know. Kenpachi?"

For the first time in quite a while, he caught a hint of embarrassment staining Byakuya's cheeks. The Kuchiki heir lowered his eyes to the table, obviously searching for the right words.

"A simple disagreement. Nothing more."

Ichigo didn't believe that for a second. "I've never seen you physically hit anyone."

"Perhaps Zaraki inspires that in me," Byakuya replied, cutting into his cake with an air of finality.

' _Or you just don't want to tell me_ ,' Ichigo amended in his mind, ignoring the stab of hurt that sliced through him. He pushed the event away along with any further questions. Byakuya obviously didn't want to talk about it.

They fell into a complacent silence, eating and watching the people around them. Ichigo was glad for the last few inches he put on all those years ago as he was able to see over a good bit of the crowd. He caught sight of Orihime flitting among her visitors, Renji trailing along after her. He had a pained expression on his face.

Che. Served him right for making fun of Ichigo all those years.

Then, from the corner of his vision, Ichigo noticed Kenpachi walk by. He trailed the man's motion until he took seat at one of the frilly tables nearby, practically throwing himself into the chair.

Ichigo's fork missed his mouth. "Byakuya?"

"Hmm?" In the midst of wiping at the frosting on Syaoran's face, some pink streaks having made it onto her cheek, Byakuya was hardly paying attention.

"Is that Kenpachi holding my child?"

The Kuchiki heir paused and peered over. "It would appear so." One brow rose in surprise.

Ichigo looked again, just to be certain. Ryuunosuke was fast asleep, snuggled firmly in the crook of Kenpachi's left arm. He didn't seem too disturbed by his proximity to the battle-hungry man. But wasn't his son last with Shunsui?

Confused, Ichigo searched the sea of faces. He found the elder captain with a sake bottle where there had once been a baby. Ah, that explained it. Ichigo should have known.

On instinct, he searched for Mikan as well. But she was safely being cooed over by Jyuushiro and Izuru. Nothing to worry about there.

"Well, it pains me to say this, but Kenpachi might be an improvement over Shunsui." Ichigo exhaled slowly.

At least the eleventh-division captain had some baby experience. He watched as several women fluttered over to his side, as if he were somehow less fearsome and dangerous with an infant in his arms. The pained look on Kenpachi's face was well worth it. His eye darted about as if looking for an escape, trapped by the cooing around him.

Yachiru hovered over one shoulder, pink hair easily distinguishable from the rest of the crowd. Her face held something close to awe as she stared at Ryuu, remarkably making no attempts to play. It was the quietest Ichigo had ever seen her.

"Okay, everyone!"

Orihime's voice pierced through the music and the loud talking. She clapped her hands to further show she wanted attention, and a wave of quiet swept through the room. The entire crowd turned towards her expectantly.

She grinned with the happy glow of an expectant mother. "It's present time!"

Clearly excited by the prospect of opening the verifiable mountain of gifts, Orihime seated herself at the head of the table like a princess. Renji hovered just behind her, content to let his wife tear through the wrapping paper with child-like glee. Ichigo and Byakuya remained where they were, though others pressed to get closer, fine with keeping their seats. He was certain Orihime would show him all her favorites at a later time anyway.

It wasn't long before she was surrounded by wonderful presents. Baby clothes, another homemade crib from Ikkaku, various bathing supplies and perfumes, and any number of objects that a woman could use during her pregnancy. She even received several fine yukata and kimono, most fitted for the later months.

"Ooooh," Orihime breathed, pulling out a beautifully knit blanket from one of the gift boxes. She was obviously impressed by the design.

Ichigo blanched at the sight. It was a swirl of random colors and symbols that made his eyes hurt, one even a bright red pineapple. Shuuhei's amused stab at Renji he supposed. He remembered getting one for each child at Rukia's baby shower from the tattooed man, a skill that Shuuhei did not advertise.

"Any plans for names?" a voice called out from the crowd.

Orihime grinned, looking the happiest Ichigo had ever seen her. "Not yet." She turned her head, sharing a warm look with her husband. "We can't decide if we want to know if our baby's a boy or girl."

"A boy," Renji coughed into his hand without any subtlety.

Rolling her eyes, she dropped the subject. "Next present!"

And so it continued for a good hour. The sound of ripping paper and unfolding cloth filled the air until every last one of the stack had been opened, contents laid bare before everyone's eyes. Ichigo severely doubted there was any necessity the Abarai couple was missing.

"Thank you, everyone!" Orihime gushed, her eyes sparkling with appreciative happiness. "Enjoy my party!"

A short burst of applause rose up as her guests began to do just that, though some were leaving now that the main event was over. There was a slight but steady trickle out the door. Soon, no one but true family and friends would remain.

Ichigo was about to turn back to Byakuya, making some amusing comment about Renji. He stalled, however, when he caught sight of Rukia. She must have slipped in during the noise and bustle of present opening and now approached Orihime.

A measure of panic flashed through him, and he quickly scanned the room for Kaien. His son was nowhere in sight. He must still be outside with Ikkaku. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. Syaoran was suitably distracted by Byakuya. With any luck, he wouldn't have to worry about either of them catching sight of their mother.

Still, that didn't stop him from watching from afar. It had been more than a week since he had last seen Rukia, and to say that he was glad for the chance was an understatement. While they had been spending less and less time together thanks to her job before, her sudden and complete absence from his life was unsettling. He could honestly say that he missed her. More than he doubted anyone could understand.

* * *

"Orihime?"

Turning at the familiar voice, the soon-to-be new mother was surprised to find Rukia behind her. An almost hesitant look was in those dark blue eyes as she glanced nervously around, a beautifully wrapped package clutched in delicate hands.

"Rukia!" Orihime exclaimed. "I didn't know if you were going to make it or not."

"I apologize," Rukia responded, handing over the wrapped gift. "I've been really busy. Congratulations."

Beaming at the pretty wrapping, the younger woman nodded. "It's okay. I understand." Fingers absentmindedly plucked at the ribbon wrapped around the box as she watched her friend from under a fall of auburn bangs.

Orihime wasn't entirely certain of the true situation behind everything. She wasn't certain she understood everything. But she could definitely see that Rukia was sad, her eyes constantly on the floor and her fingers fidgeting.

"I can't stay long," Rukia added, moving her head slightly and scanning the crowd as if looking for someone, half-hoping and half-dreading. "But I couldn't miss your baby shower."

A smile flitted onto the other woman's lips, and Orihime momentarily set the gift on the table behind her. To Rukia's astonishment, she took her hands and squeezed them warmly. Shock spread across Rukia's face as she jerked her eyes back towards her friend.

"I don't really know anything," Orihime said in earnest. She hadn't been able to figure out what side she was supposed to take. She wasn't sure there was one. But she did know that she would be an awful friend if she abandoned either one of them.

"And I don't like you hurting Ichigo-kun."

Rukia visibly flinched, trying to draw back. But Orihime's hold was firm and unrelenting. In lieu of physically escaping, the vice-captain shifted her gaze to the side, trying to avoid Orihime's eyes.

"Orihime, I--"

"But," she inserted, neatly clipping Rukia's words off. "I do know that you're my friend. You went into Hueco Mundo with Ichigo-kun to rescue me, and you fought at my side during the war. Besides, Ichigo-kun still loves you, and… it's none of my business. If he's not mad, how can I be?"

Blinking, the former Kuchiki felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude, enough that her eyes shimmered. "I..." She blinked again and sucked in a deep breath. "You don't know how much that means to me."

"Of course I do, silly," Orihime responded, finally releasing her hands and reaching for the present once more with an excited grin. She paused, turning to shake a finger at Rukia. "But don't you ever hurt Ichigo-kun again, or I'll have to set Tsubaki on you."

A very tight grin edged onto Rukia's lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry. I swear that I won't."

"Good." Orihime nodded sagely and started to unravel the ribbon, peeling back the wrapping. "It's so soft," she murmured as she withdrew an elegant full-length kimono from the box, a soft blue with gold trim and design. "Ah, but it... won't fit."

Rukia shook her head. "Of course not. This is for afterwards."

The pregnant woman's lower lip wobbled in appreciation. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Rukia's eyes flicked around, registering the multitudes of people who were probably going to start staring soon. "I hate to be brief, but I have to go before--"

"I know," Orihime interjected. She reached forward and pulled Rukia into a brief hug before releasing her. "Come and talk to me sometime, okay?"

Rukia nodded. "I will. And you can come to me if you need advice. I'll talk to you later, Orihime."

The pregnant woman smiled and waved as Rukia turned to leave, slipping out the same way she had slipped in with the few the wiser to her presence. But when Orihime turned her attention to her guests, she caught a glimpse of Ichigo looking her way. She sighed inwardly. He looked so very hurt and lonely, despite the fact Byakuya was with him. It made her own heart ache for him.

This was one thing her Souten Kisshun could not fix.

* * *

From his vantage point, Ichigo could watch them interact but not hear what they were saying. Whatever Orihime just said, however, made Rukia smile, and his heart ached at the sight. Recently, he had only seen her tired and worn, maybe even angry. She left not soon after arriving.

Something twisted in his gut as she slipped out of his sight, along with the urge to go after her. Talk to her even. Figure out what they were going to do, what he was supposed to do. She said they needed distance. Was he supposed to wait until she came to her senses? Or was that merely futile? Did she mean for them to be over? Was it that easy for her to walk away?

There were so many questions surging up in him. He needed to talk to her again.

He was tired of sleeping alone, even if he had to suffer it for only a week. His children missed their mother. And he wanted his wife back. He didn't care what anyone else thought. It was his damn life and his damn heart.

"Kurosaki."

The rumbled voice startled him, and Ichigo nearly jumped at the sound of it, barely catching himself from dropping his half-finished cake. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from where Rukia had last been, he turned and pretended to be concentrating on eating. He came face to face with his youngest son.

"It stinks," the voice announced from just beyond.

Ichigo tipped his head to the side, catching sight of Zaraki. Yachiru had mysteriously disappeared from his shoulder, probably off to terrorize some innocent.

And then, his nose caught a whiff. Indeed, Ryuu was quite smelly. He needed to be changed.

"He's a baby. They smell," Ichigo retorted, placing his plate to the table and reaching for his son.

Ryuu raised his arms to his father as Ichigo took him from Kenpachi, fingers grasping for Ichigo's hair. He seemed to delight in touching the orange strands.

Ichigo ignored his grasping, smirking at the other man. "Surely, you haven't forgotten how to change a diaper, have you?"

"I'm wipin' that from my memory. Never happened." Kenpachi practically shuddered.

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo began the search for the bag he knew he had brought with him and stashed somewhere. Maybe Byakuya had it. Or Jyuushiro. It was _somewhere_ ; he just couldn't quite remember where. Ryuunosuke was rather foul, squirming in discomfort. He would have to find it soon.

"Where's the squirt?" Kenpachi asked after a second.

"With Ikkaku," Ichigo answered absentmindedly, desperately trying to recall what he had done with the bag when he arrived. He had stashed it somewhere. At a table maybe? Or had he given it to someone?

The other captain shot him a skeptical, disbelieving look. "Ya left him with that idiot?"

"Yumichika's there," Ichigo replied, slipping Ryuu into one hand as he poked around a few tables that had already been abandoned by guests. The room was slowly emptying.

"I'm sure Ayasegawa-fukutaichou is capable of reining in your third-seat," Byakuya inserted as though offended by Kenpachi questioning Ichigo's parenting abilities.

Ichigo nodded. "Exactly." He paused, frowning. "Oy, Byakuya. Where's that bag I brought? You know, the one with the baby stuff in it."

"I put it under your chair."

Kenpachi's eye flickered between them. He grinned knowingly, though Ichigo wasn't paying any attention to him, and gave Byakuya a look.

The Kuchiki heir stiffened, eyes widening marginally, and suddenly drew to his feet. "Shall we see if we can convince Hisagi-fukutaichou to knit you a scarf, Syaoran?" he asked, pretending as if he wasn't aware of Kenpachi's presence.

She beamed, looking longingly at her uncle's own very expensive scarf. "Really?"

Byakuya nodded, shoving his nose into the air and taking her hand. "Your birthday is soon. Perhaps you can convince him."

He completely ignored Zaraki as he led his niece past the towering man. Until Kenpachi snickered.

"Denial," he muttered under his breath before Byakuya could get out of hearing range.

The look the Kuchiki heir gave him could have frozen an entire lake and then promptly set it on fire, only for it to burn for days. Kenpachi was unbothered, merely grinning in victory as Byakuya continued on his way.

Bag in hand, Ichigo returned from his brief search, catching sight of their departure. "Where's Byakuya going?"

Kenpachi shrugged. "Somethin' about a scarf. Pansy shit. Hell if I know." He turned and walked away but called back, "Spar with me sometime, Ichigo. I swear yer getting' soft."

"What do you know?" Ichigo retorted with some irritation. "You only had one!"

A hand was flicked at him dismissively. It was the only response he received.

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo looked at Ryuunosuke, who returned his stare unblinking with a silent request for his father to change his uncomfortable diaper.

"I think that you're the only sane one," he said and left to look for a good place to take his son out of the public eye.

* * *

 


	12. Realities

It had been three days since he returned from his vacation, and nothing had changed, not that Ichigo really expected it to. There were still whispers and stares, pitying glances and people shaking their heads as if they really knew what was going on. He still went to work everyday, signed the same paperwork, oversaw training sessions and doled out punishments, though those were few and far between. His division seemed to be on its utmost in good behavior.

He went back to his house every night, sent Tohru home, and took care of his children. He fed them, bathed them, got them ready for bed. He read them a story and tucked them in. Nothing had really changed. Except that he slept at night in a bed too big for one and with cold sheets and a noticeable silence.

Ichigo really didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. Nothing had changed, and yet, everything had. It was different. Before, Rukia might not have been there, but he knew she would eventually come home. Now, by the time he laid the children down, there was nothing else to look forward to. He had nothing but time to himself, and nothing to think about but… _this._

He didn't know what he was supposed to do. How much time did she want? How much was he supposed to give her? It was the uncertainty that was killing him, a constant churning of indecision in his gut.

He was tired of it all and more than ready for it to end. He wanted his life back the way it was, the way it had been. It wasn't perfect, but dammit, they were working on it. It was _his_ life.

"Tou-san?"

The unexpected query caused Ichigo to start. The silence of the night had surrounded him as he brooded on the back porch, playing with a bottle of sake he had no intention of drinking.

Ichigo turned to see Kaien standing in the doorway leading back into the hall. One hand rubbed at his eye as though he had just woken. Which made sense. Ichigo had put them all to bed at least two hours ago.

"Couldn't sleep?" Ichigo asked, surreptitiously setting the sake jug under the porch and slowly rising to his feet.

His son shook his head and looked at his father. "When's okaa-san coming home?"

Ichigo stiffened for all of a moment, ice shivering its way through his insides, before he forced himself to recover. He had to hold together. He couldn't let his son think anything was wrong, and it was a valid question, after all. Rukia had been gone for a week. Perhaps Kaien had merely realized how much he missed his mother. There was nothing to be worried about.

He forced a smile onto his face. "Whenever her patrol is up," Ichigo replied, laying his palm on his son's sleep-mussed hair. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed."

Kaien didn't budge, looking up at him with eyes that flashed determination. "Is she really on patrol?"

Thrown by the sudden query, Ichigo stared at his son. The boy knew something, had heard something. Or maybe it was that his kids were more observant than he gave them credit.

Ichigo lowered himself so that he was eye level with his son, hand slipping to Kaien's shoulder. "What's on your mind?"

His son shifted uneasily, eyes shunting off to the side. "I saw okaa-san at Hime-obaa-san's party," he admitted, fidgets growing more prominent. "But she didn't come see me." He paused and searched his father's face. "Why? Why hasn't she come back home yet?"

It came a lot sooner than he expected it would. There was no use in keeping the story anymore since it had already been blown to pieces. Kaien deserved the truth.

"I guess you're getting older, hmm?"

Predictably, his son scowled. "I'm not a baby, tou-san."

"I know," Ichigo soothed, cutting off the pout before it even began. He rose to his feet. "I think I forget that sometimes. Let's go into the kitchen. I'll warm some milk." It sounded like such a paltry offering in the face of what he was about to tell Kaien, but it was the best he had to give.

His mind was spinning, and Ichigo wished he had the words to say. He had known from the moment Rukia had walked out the door that this moment would eventually come. He had just hoped that it would take a lot longer. At least until after he had figured something out. Right now, all he had to offer was half-assed reassurances.

Ichigo placed his hand on Kaien's back and steered him into the house. A faint noise floated to his ears, and he paused, the boy looking up at him in surprise.

"Go wait for me in the kitchen," Ichigo instructed. "Let me check on your brother and sisters."

"Hai."

His son continued down the hall, and Ichigo diverted his original course, slipping in to check on the twins. They were curled together, the blanket lying twisted around their legs. A fond smile creeping onto his lips, he fixed it and brushed his fingers over their cheeks. Mikan made a noise of discontent but settled just as quickly. No worries here.

He moved on to Syaoran's room. The moment he stepped inside, he heard the rustle of blankets. She was awake.

"You're not sleeping either?" Ichigo asked in surprise as he moved to her futon.

She looked up at him, rolling over to lie on her back. "Nii-san's right, isn't he?" she whispered, her voice sounding on the verge of distress.

Ichigo nodded and held out his hand, figuring that he might as well explain to her. Hell, she had probably noticed long before Kaien did.

"We'll get you some milk, too."

Syaoran nodded, idly brushing down her rumpled nemaki. The obi was coming loose, so he quickly tightened the knot and took her hand. With Syaoran in tow, he headed into the kitchen.

Kaien had turned on the lights and was waiting patiently at the table. He sleepily stared at the top as he leaned his head on one hand, elbow on the tabletop. He looked on the verge of falling back asleep, only determination keeping him awake.

"Go sit next to your brother," Ichigo urged, giving his daughter a gentle push. She slid in next to Kaien as their father slipped into the kitchen.

Pulling out the necessities, Ichigo began to warm some milk. It was more to give his hands something to do as he pondered just what exactly he could tell them. The truth was probably best. It was obvious that any lies weren't going to hold for very long. But he should not reveal it all either. There were certain things they really didn't need to know.

He knew they would have questions; he was already anticipating them. Why? When? What now?

He dreaded them because he had no answers. What should he say? Lie? Offer them a false reassurance? He simply didn't know, and it was that reality that made him feel he was even more a failure of a father.

Sighing, Ichigo poured the warmed milk into two mugs and carried it to his children. Setting the cups on the table, he nudged Kaien aside and lowered himself down between them. Syaoran immediately bumped up against his side, whereas Kaien wrapped his hands around the mug, sniffing at it. His daughter didn't even bother, lifting her gaze to her father.

"Tou-chan?" Syaoran urged, probably noticing that he was beginning to fidget.

"Just thinking, sweetheart," he replied, and then to their surprise, he wrapped an arm around them and tucked each within his hold.

After taking a deep swallow of his milk and swiping at his upper lip with his sleeve, Kaien spoke. "Okaa-san's not on patrol, is she?"

Ichigo forced himself to breathe deeply. He had to hold together.

"No, she's not," he answered honestly. "She's not here because she's staying at her division."

"Why?" Syaoran asked.

"She should be here with us," Kaien added, his hands cupping the warm mug.

Their father unconsciously drew them closer. "Unfortunately, she can't. Okaa-san and I had a fight, and we need to live in separate places right now."

Syaoran frowned. "But you've had fights before," the girl insisted. "She didn't leave then."

"Then why?" Kaien demanded, craning his neck to look up at his father, anxiousness creeping into his expression. "Is it cause of what I said to Byakuya-oji-san?"

Ichigo shook his head forcefully. "No, Kaien. It's not your fault. It's… complicated."

He hated having to use that word, but there was no way he was going to outright tell his children that their mother feared harming him. Perhaps when they were older. Or if he had his way, never at all. It wasn't something they needed to know.

"Is she coming back?" Syaoran questioned, arms wrapping around her father. "When's she coming back?"

"I don't know."

Tears began to shimmer in his daughter's eyes, and Ichigo felt himself break.

"Okaa-san's not coming back? Doesn't she love us anymore?" Syaoran asked in a small voice.

Ichigo swallowed down the emotions threatening to rise. They needed him right now. He couldn't shatter. He had to be the strong one. He was the adult. Even if he was a failure of a parent, no better than Isshin.

"Okaa-san loves you very much," he reassured them, hoping to kami that his voice had not just cracked. "And I know she'll come to see you soon. Even if... even if she doesn't come back, she'll still be here for you."

Kaien's lips pulled into a glower, but Ichigo had been expecting it.

"That's not the same," the boy sulked, pushing away his mug and crossing his arms over his chest. "She should be here with us."

' _I couldn't agree more_ ,' Ichigo said to himself. He kept it inside, however.

"I know," he responded instead, trying to keep his voice gentle and soothing. "But for now, we're just going to have to hold together on our own."

Syaoran stirred, burying her face in his side. "You should go get her," she mumbled. "Tell her to come back."

"If it were that simple, sweetheart, I would have already done it."

His children fell silent, but he could tell that they were upset. Syaoran was clinging, and Kaien was working himself into a first-class sulk, his best attempt at not crying and acting grown-up. Ichigo closed his eyes, wishing the right words would just come to him. Something that would make them feel less abandoned and more loved. He had no answers. Nothing but half-hearted hopes and a vague wish that it would all be okay eventually. He couldn't comfort them; he couldn't even comfort himself.

Some hero.

Ichigo pressed a kiss to their heads, noting that Kaien didn't even squirm. "Let's get you back to bed," he put in quietly. "I know you have lessons tomorrow."

"It's not fair," the boy muttered without budging. "Why can't she just come back?"

' _Please, just stop._ ' Ichigo found himself begging. ' _I don't have the answers. I can't give you anything_.' He couldn't say it aloud and groped for something, anything. He was ten heartbeats away from a lie. Ten fucking beats.

Syaoran lifted her head and glared at her brother. "Cause she can't, nii-chan," she retorted crossly, though it was obvious she was hurting just as much. "Tou-chan said so. Quit acting like a baby."

"Shut up," Kaien shot back before Ichigo could get a word in edgewise, irritation in his tone. "I'm not a kid."

"Hey, hey," Ichigo inserted, stopping the argument before it could degenerate further. "Don't be mean to each other. Remember what I said about sticking together?"

There was a moment of silence as Syaoran pressed her face back into his summer yukata. "Sorry, tou-chan," she whispered.

Ichigo soothed a hand down her back. "Don't apologize to me. You two need to apologize to each other."

He could practically see the irritation rising off of both of them at the mere thought. Yet, Syaoran, ever the one to feel superior, apologized first. If one could really call it an apology.

"You're not a baby, nii-chan," she acquiesced graciously.

Kaien sniffed. "I'm sorry, too," he gritted out, though it sounded both forced and petulant and not much like an apology at all.

Rivalry. He still didn't get it.

Ichigo knew that was the best he was going to get out of them. He sighed and unraveled them from his arms, rising to his feet.

"Come on. Bedtime."

There was no more protest as he tucked them in and managed to get them settled in their beds. He returned to the dining room, dumping out the barely touched drinks and returned to his perusal on the porch. The sake was admired but also untouched.

Later that night, after he had finally decided to sleep, he felt two small bodies join him, one on either side. Something that hadn't happened since they were both much, much younger. He could only wrap his arms around them as they slept at his side, not for once thinking of booting them back to their own beds. Even if they were a bit too old for this.

It was the only comfort he had to give.

* * *

It was mildly warm, a gentle breeze whispering around him that somehow managed to be the perfect temperature. The sun was shining, despite the fact that Byakuya knew logically there was no sun. It was serene. Soothing. And entirely within his mind.

Byakuya frowned deeply. "Why have you brought me here?" he demanded with a pointed look to his surroundings.

Everywhere he looked, there were long, carefully organized lines of sakura trees in full bloom. They towered over him, pink and white petals a stark contrast to the blue sky. The ground beneath was grassy and dotted with fallen flowers. And in front of him, _she_ sat, an elegant kimono draped demurely around her. Her knees were folded and her legs off to the side, feet tucked towards her body.

Senbonzakura's lips pulled into a gentle smile. "You need a place to think," she responded enigmatically, sipping delicately at a cup of tea.

The Kuchiki heir's scowl deepened. "I have plenty of time to think," he retorted, crossing his arms with a small hint of irritation.

Her eyes watched him over the rim of her cup, gaze unreadable. "Indeed. Perhaps you spend too much time doing so. But not, I believe, on this particular matter."

Byakuya pursed his lips in thought as he attempted to discern exactly what she meant. He drew a complete blank, however, which left him even more annoyed.

Senbonzakura merely smiled from where she sat at the base of one of the larger trees and patted the ground next to her. "Come. Sit with me, dearest. Have some tea."

Clearly reluctant, he also realized that she had brought him there for a reason. Firming his lips, Byakuya lowered himself to the grass beside her, declining her offer of tea with a shake of his head.

"What matter are you referring to?"

Her eyes searched him. "Zaraki Kenpachi is a very intuitive man, is he not?"

Byakuya sniffed, disdain rising up inside of him as he folded his arms into his lap. "The man is delusional."

"Why bother denying what you already know is true?" she queried, voice light and airy, though he also knew it could also be harder than steel. "The only one you are lying to is yourself."

His fingers tightened on his knees as he watched her drink her tea. "It is impossible," Byakuya countered, wondering why even his zanpakutou thought fit to get involved with Zaraki's insanity. "The man must be misconstruing friendship."

"My dear Byakuya," Senbonzakura said, clucking her tongue in a chiding fashion. "I am you, and still, you think that by merely stating it isn't true then it will be so."

Frustration began to well up inside of him. He could practically hear Zaraki cackling at him, throwing the word "denial" in his face over and over again. What was wrong with simple friendship? Couldn't he simply be friends with Ichigo and leave it at that? Why did everyone want to push it towards something more?

She continued, either heedless of or ignoring his inner diatribe. "I know that you have noticed it," Senbonzakura mused aloud, setting her cup on its partner saucer, which sat in the grass.

A wind stirred, sending a rain of blossoms falling down on them. Byakuya didn't even notice.

"Surely, you are beginning to see what Kenpachi means?"

Byakuya tore his eyes away from her, glaring agitatedly at one of the nearby trees. "I see nothing."

"What are you so afraid of?"

Teeth gritted, the denial coming out more forceful than he had intended. "I'm not afraid."

Kuchiki Byakuya did not fear anything. Not Zaraki. Not Ichigo. Nothing at all. And especially not so-called, nonexistent feelings towards his best friend. He was not delusional; he was not lying to himself. He didn't care what everyone else thought they knew or saw or could point out to him.

Senbonzakura scoffed, clearly disbelieving. "Byakuya, my dear, you are absolutely terrified."

He sniffed indignantly, swinging a full glare her direction. "And what am I supposedly so terrified about?"

She gave him a look, her grey eyes threatening to pierce right through him like one of the sharp petals of his blade. "You poor, delusional boy." Senbonzakura sighed. "No one lies as well to you, Kuchiki Byakuya, as you do to yourself."

He scowled, lips firming.

"You are afraid that he will be another Hisana," Senbonzakura added softly.

His entire body stiffened in anger. "He is nothing like her," Byakuya ground out from between clenched teeth. "Even I know that."

Her lightly painted lips curled into a mysterious smile that only made his ire rise in temperature. "That is not what I meant."

"Then, explain yourself," Byakuya snapped, failing in his attempt to rein in his frustration. "What do you mean?"

Sadness echoed in her exhalation. "You simply fear that he will be unable to _return_ your love, just as your wife could not."

Byakuya sucked in a breath. "That's not… It isn't… It is _not_ true!"

' _But he loves you more._ ' That damn Zaraki voice! It wouldn't stop. Over and over in his head. He really was going to strangle the man the next time he saw him. Apparently, the one strike wasn't enough for the bastard to stop smirking in his head.

He firmed his jaw, staring resolutely past her. "Just be quiet," Byakuya hissed under his breath, uncertain if he spoke to her or the Zaraki echoes. He purposely avoided thinking of his sanity as he possibly rebutted the voice of a man who was not present.

Fabric brushed against grass as she changed position, shifting closer to him and laying her hand on his arm. It was probably a motion that was meant to be soothing, but he flinched. And only with great will did he not immediately draw away.

"My little Byakuya," Senbonzakura said in a gentle tone. "You are only hurting yourself. Either admit it or move on. You need to live your own life."

"I have a life."

"Oh? And what do you with yourself?" she posed, obviously not believing him. "Work. And spend time with your sister's family. It's admirable, and they are your family as well. But they are _her_ children, not yours, dear heart."

He had no words to say. She was right in a sense. But he didn't want to admit to whatever she was trying to imply. That he didn't have a life outside of Rukia and his nieces and nephews. Outside of Ichigo. That he was clinging to something in an unconscious and desperate hope.

It was simply impossible.

Senbonzakura continued, despite his inner turmoil, "Ichigo is your only real friend, the only person you willingly open up to. You won't even give as much to your beloved senpai."

"That is not true," he insisted, but even to him, it sounded false and forced. A small, very tiny part of him was starting to listen, but the greater majority was stubborn.

"Isn't it?"

He shook his head, ignoring the comforting squeeze she gave to his arms. "No… I do things." He paused, fighting to find some defense that didn't sound trite. "My garden is fine. I have read several books. I--"

"You only do those things when he is with you," she interrupted.

That was enough. He refused to listen anymore. If his zanpakutou was foolish enough to believe the drivel that Zaraki was spouting then he had every right to ignore her. Ridiculous nonsense. All of it.

That was the only thing it could be.

Byakuya pursed his lips, body turning as stiff and cold as ice. "Are you quite through?" He had heard enough.

"No, my dearest heart, but I know that you will not listen further," she responded with a disappointed sigh. She released his arm, drawing back. "Please, think about what I have said."

A noncommittal noise echoed in his throat. And from the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of her beginning to fade in a wave of petals.

"I do not want you to one day regret lost opportunities," she murmured.

Then, Senbonzakura was gone, leaving him alone under the tree.

The silence was echoing, heavy and harsh. He lowered his gaze to the ground, forcing clenched fingers to unfurl and allow blood to rush back into the tightened digits. The wind stirred, though this time it was far colder, as if a storm was threatening to invade his inner world. But he was not Ichigo. The weather never changed.

Only the trees. From bare branches to full growth and all the states in between. They had withered over years after Yoruichi's hasty departure and throughout his marriage to Hisana. And after his wife's death, the trees had been barren, empty. Lifeless. But they had slowly revived, small buds appearing as he healed. And yet, only after Rukia's aborted execution, only during the war, had they completely revitalized.

Byakuya swallowed and exhaled heavily.

"I believe that I already do," he murmured. But he was the only one to hear it.

* * *

The knock on the door surprised her, and she jumped at her desk, nearly spilling her inkwell all over her paperwork. She had been taking more and more back to her quarters lately, a distraction for the pangs of loneliness that often attacked her. She sorely missed her family. And more and more with each passing day.

Frowning in confusion, Rukia concentrated her senses and then relaxed when she realized she recognized the reiatsu. She rose to her feet, double-checking the knot on her obi, and moved to her door. The knock came again, a bit louder this time. The impatience was not surprising in the least.

She slid open the door. "Renji?"

"I'm an idiot," the seventh-division captain announced before she say anything more. His declaration was immediately followed by a heavy sigh.

Rukia blinked and furrowed her brow. "Well, I know that, but…"

"I'm sorry, too," he added, twitching as one hand tugged on his captain's haori. He must have just come from the division on his way home. "For being an idiot."

"You're not making any sense." She peered at him, wondering if he'd fallen and hit his head recently. Or perhaps his vice-captain had finally caused him to lose his mind.

Rather than explain himself, he fidgeted again and looked at her hopefully. "Can I come in?"

"Into the home of another woman, one who is not your wife, and at this hour?" Rukia asked, though it was more teasing than chastising. The sense of uneasiness between them did not miss her attention, and it bothered her immensely.

Renji was supposed to be like family to her, a brother in everything but name. He was supposed to be one of the few people she could be herself around, someone she could always trust.

He jerked his head into a nod. "We've never cared 'bout rules anyway," he countered and then added a half-smile that was nothing like his cocksure grin. "Besides, yer like my sister."

Rukia stepped aside, pushing the door open all the way and giving him room to enter. He carefully slipped off his waraji as he padded inside, robe swishing about him. He truly must have come over straight from work; otherwise, he would have already removed his haori.

"Tell me why you're an idiot," Rukia commanded as she led him into the first of three rooms in her quarters.

Her apartment near the barracks was surprisingly spacious, though still a lot smaller than what the captain would have had he lived at the division. She had her own bathroom, complete with both a shower and a tub. Not to mention a separate bedroom. Then, of course, there was the main room, her desk along the far wall by a large window. Opposite that was the kitchen and dining area, a couch and other furnishings in between.

All in all, it was bigger than she had initially expected. Big and echoing and very empty, despite the painstakingly crafted furniture and all the lovely designs painted on the walls.

She lowered herself to the floor in front of a table in the main room, leaving Renji ample space in front of her. Zabimaru was pulled from his obi as he knelt on the floor, only to be laid immediately at his side, always within reach. She thought of Sode no Shirayuki, casually settled on the stand in her bedroom, next to her shihakushou and lieutenant's badge.

Rukia waited patiently for Renji to find the words. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, staring firmly at the wooden floor. Some things never changed, she supposed. He was still the immature moron she had always known.

"This thing between ya and Ichigo," he began slowly, as if each word was being pulled from him. "It has us all confused, ya know."

She folded her hands in her lap. "It puts you in a bad position."

"Yeah, but… it shouldn't. Ichigo told me that." Renji laughed nervously, a fake chuckle that she knew meant he was recalling something. Which was probably Ichigo yelling and cursing. "He's right. Yer still my family."

Her insides warmed, some of the chill of loneliness fading at that remark. She had never felt so much gratitude for the spiky-haired fool in all her life.

"Thanks," she replied quietly, swallowing down her emotions. "But you still haven't said why you're an idiot."

"Ah, that." A guilty expression crossed his face, and he couldn't meet her eyes. His palms rubbed down his hakama. "IaskedIchigoifyahitthekids," he said in all a rush. Thankfully, Renji slowed down for the last bit, "He sort of chewed me out for it."

Rukia blinked. The middle part had been nothing but a bunch of garbled nonsense. She could pick out "Ichigo" and "kids" but nothing besides that.

"You what?"

Renji coughed into his hand, rocking nervously. " IaskedIchigoifyahitthekids," he said again, just as quickly, slurring everything together.

Pinching her lips, she mulled the words over in her head. Slowly, she managed to unravel the rushed phrase, and when she did, she fixed him with a firm glare.

"Normally, I would hit you for that," she stated angrily. "But under the circumstances, I better not."

He jerked his head into a nod. "I can… um… understand that. And… uh… normally, I'd let ya." His voice held nothing but regret, however, and she could tell by the embarrassed turn of his eyes that he felt no pride in his accusation.

She shook her head. "Why?" Rukia demanded, a part of her very disappointed with him. And hurt that he would even suspect that of her.

Ichigo… hitting Ichigo was different. Something that had escalated from what had once been a game. But to turn her anger on her own children? She would never!

"Why would you even think that?"

He shifted again, twitching. "Well--"

"If you're willing to think that of me, kami knows what everyone else believes," she inserted shortly, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. She felt the onset of another migraine coming on and debated getting up for the pills Isane had given her.

Renji exhaled heavily. "I've heard them," he admitted.

"And?"

He coughed into his hand, unable to look at her, obviously reluctant. "Well, one of them says that ya… err… smackIchigoaroundcausehe'shavinganaffairwithyourbrother."

She glowered at him for his inability to say anything simply and turned the words over in her mind, picking them apart. It took her several long seconds to translate before her eyes widened. A part of her didn't want to hear anymore. But she also knew that she had to find out just how bad it was.

"How long has this supposed affair been going on?"

He shrugged. "It varies, but the general consensus says… from the very beginning."

Rukia raked a hand through her hair. "I can honestly see that one," she admitted, though it pained her to do so. It had only a modicum of truth, but then, that was all a rumor needed. "What else?"

"Some think that the twins aren't really Ichigo's," Renji added, wincing at the look he caught on her face. "They all say it cause Yuzu claimed no one in their family has eyes of that color."

"People in my family could have teal eyes!" Rukia insisted, the very absurdity of it forcing anger through her calm. "It's not like I would know!"

Renji spread his palms. "Don't get mad at me. I'm just the messenger."

Disgusted, Rukia sat back on her heels, rubbing her forehead and the building ache again. "Anything else?"

He winced, obviously not wanting to tell but also knowing he'd better. "The worst one I've heard," he answered. "They say that ya never loved Ichigo, that ya only wanted his name cause he was famous and he was an easy way to escape from Byakuya."

The urge to tear her hair out from simple frustration nearly overwhelmed her. "Two affairs and I was using him in the other. It doesn't cast either one of us in a good light." She shook her head angrily. "I don't want to imagine the rest. That's enough."

But Renji clearly wasn't quite finished yet. He shifted uneasily, awkwardly heading into the next bit.

"Well, with the love affair concerning yer brother…" He paused, looking to her in a silent question.

She waved a hand in the air, still silently fuming. "Go on."

"They've been in love from the beginning, ya know, since before the marriage. And ya stole Ichigo from Byakuya, takin' advantage of him cause he's so young and don't know better." Renji coughed. "Even more absurd is that they think ya used a pregnancy story, and he married ya to save a scandal."

Rukia firmed her jaw. "And what happened to this supposed child? I mean, Kaien wasn't born for several years after we were married."

"Never existed. There was an unfortunate miscarriage."

Aghast, Rukia cried, "I've never miscarried. I've been pregnant three times and had four children! Which, let me tell you, is no walk in the park!"

"I know," Renji insisted. "I'm not the one makin' this shit up. Ya know how Seireitei is. It's a feedin' ground fer gossip."

She had never heard such absolute drivel in her entire life. Clearly, the rumor mill was having more than a good time with her and Ichigo's pain. It was enough to make her sick to her stomach, her belly threatening to heave every last bit of her dinner.

Rukia suddenly felt very tired. "Enough. I don't want to hear any more. Please."

She forced her fingers to uncoil as he nodded in understanding, letting the revelations wash over her. Affairs and fake pregnancies… it was like one of those really bad soap operas she had once caught on Ichigo's television, a broadcast from America. All she needed was some other woman to run in, claiming she was pregnant with Ichigo's baby and her dead sister to come back to life to complete the circle.

Rukia sighed heavily and forced her thoughts away from the absurd route they were presently taking. Instead, she focused on something that she had been wondering.

"How is he?" she questioned, trying to ignore the pangs in her heart at the thought of her husband. She missed him terribly.

Raking a hand through his hair, Renji shrugged. "Spends a lot of time with the kids. An' Byakuya. So not much difference. He's got a decent public face, though that one day…"

She frowned. "One day?"

His gaze shifted to the side, and he abruptly changed the subject. "Rukia, what're ya gonna do?"

It was a question she had asked herself time and time again. But that didn't mean she was any closer to the answer than she had been before.

"I don't know. There's what I should do, and there's what I want to do. There's what's best for him and the kids..." She chewed on her bottom lip. "And then, there's nii-sama. I just need more time."

He blinked. "How much time're ya gonna take?"

"A few centuries?" She honestly didn't know if she was kidding or not. At the rate she was going, Rukia didn't know how long it would take.

Renji gave her a look that was ten steps closer to parental than she had ever seen him give in his life. "Your kids won't believe that you're going to be on patrol for a few centuries," he stated crossly. "And if they do, Ukitake better look out. Kaien's got some fierce reiatsu."

"I know." Rukia rubbed a hand over her face. "But I just… I need time. It's not fucking easy, you know," she bit out, forcing herself to blink back tear of frustration.

"But ya need to come up with somethin'," Renji insisted. "Ya can't keep this up. It's not good fer ya. Or him. Or the kids. Or yer friends."

Rukia sucked in a shuddery breath. "You're one to talk."

It was merely a reflex, and Renji knew it, thank goodness. He didn't immediately respond. And she was saved from apologizing.

Several long seconds of silence passed before he stirred. "It's getting late," he finally said into the harsh quiet. "And Hime'll be worried." There was a creak of bones as he rose to his feet, slipping Zabimaru into his obi.

Rukia nodded, surreptitiously wiping at her eyes before standing as well. She walked him to the door, opening it for him. He stepped outside but turned before leaving.

His red-brown eyes searched her face before he set his hand on her hair. "He still loves ya," Renji said softly, the faint touch a comfort. "That should be all that matters."

She blinked away moisture. "It should," she replied miserably. "But not when nii-sama loves him, too. Thanks for coming, Renji."

He hesitated; she could tell he didn't want to leave her alone. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his hand and nodded.

"No problem. See ya later, Rukia."

"Yeah, see you."

He headed down the walk. Rukia closed the door behind him, and sucking in a breath, she leaned against the thin-paneled wood. She knew that he was right, a clear first when it came to the moron, but she was no closer to an answer. She missed her children; she missed him.

But she simply didn't know what to do.

* * *

 


	13. Of Bravery

"How many does he actually expect you to take on?"

Ichigo shrugged, mindlessly tapping his brush against the paperwork he still had to sign. "More than I actually want," he responded, thinking of the influx of Academy students who Yamamoto recommended join his division.

In front of him, Byakuya frowned thoughtfully. "I do not see why Yamamoto-soutaichou doesn't send them to the seventh. They still haven't recuperated their losses after the war."

"Or even the fourth," Ichigo added musingly. "Maybe he really is getting senile." There was a hint of teasing in his voice, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

Byakuya snorted, lifting a brow. "I'll let you be the first to tell him that."

"He doesn't scare me," Ichigo scoffed, dropping the brush and pushing his paperwork off to the side. He was absolutely certain it was busy work anyway.

The Kuchiki heir gave his brother-in-law a look that spoke volumes without him having to actually say a word.

Ichigo exhaled and waved a hand. "Fine," he acquiesced. "Only a little. But you have to admit, he's got more muscles than I do. A guy can't help but feel inadequate."

"I try not to think about it," Byakuya responded with a grimace, shifting slightly in his position to accommodate the sudden tingling in his legs.

It was very blessedly normal, this moment, the two of them simply chatting in Ichigo's office, even while the rest of the world kept on turning. Shinigami ran to and fro in the sticky heat outside, carrying missive after missive. Ayasegawa was humming to himself in the outer office, likely dusting if the swishing noise meant anything. It seemed perfectly normal.

A part of Byakuya was waiting for the other shoe to fall. And he was purposefully ignoring any insane cackles in the back of his skull. As well as knowing grey eyes that were both pitying and exasperated. He wondered who else would be thinking to give him advice. Hitsugaya Toushirou?

"Oy, Byakuya."

The older man blinked, not realizing he had somehow lost his focus. "Yes?" he asked, returning his attention to Ichigo and reaching for his tea. He sipped at the cooled liquid.

Brown eyes watched him for a moment. "You were spacing out," he said with a faint frown. "If the sixth division is that busy, you know that you can..." Ichigo trailed off when he caught sight of the Hell Butterfly flitting in through his open window. It fluttered towards him, rather than Byakuya.

Ichigo held up a finger, allowing the black swallowtail to rest upon the tip. His frown deepened as the message was relayed, Byakuya only able to watch and wonder. He sipped at his tea, quickly cooling in his hands. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of his brother-in-law's rapidly changing expressions.

"Thank you," Ichigo murmured, something in his gaze seeming pained. "Please respond with an affirmative. Sunday at five is best."

The Hell Butterfly lingered for a few moments more before rising with a quick flap, flittering out the same way it had entered. Ichigo watched its exit, something hopeful and strained in his expression.

"What is it?" Byakuya asked, hating the sudden churning in his belly at that look on his friend's face.

Ichigo's eyes shuttered to the side, as if he didn't want to meet Byakuya's gaze. "It was from Rukia."

The sixth-division captain lifted one brow. "Rukia?"

Ichigo nodded, sadness and longing replacing most of the emotions in a continuous pattern reflected on his face. "She asked to see the kids."

"And?"

"What do you think?" Ichigo demanded and raked a hand through his hair with a pained sigh. "I told her she could."

Byakuya set his cup down, frowning deeply. "Even though they think she is on patrol?"

"I told them the truth already." Ichigo winced.

"Oh?" That Byakuya had not expected to hear. It surprised him.

Ichigo shook his head. "I don't give them enough credit. Kaien saw her at the baby shower, and Syaoran has suspected something from the beginning." He paused, gaze flittering to the window and the blue sky beyond. "Kaien thought it was his fault."

"More mine than his," Byakuya inserted quietly.

The other captain snorted. "I've gotten over that. It's the rest of the bullshit that bothers me."

It was more forgiveness than Byakuya felt he deserved, considering all that Ichigo was being forced to endure right now. But he also couldn't justify keeping silent. Perhaps it would have been better if he had left them to solve their ills on their own, but it could have also been much worse. There was no way to tell, and truthfully, a part of him was infuriated by the idea of Ichigo being put through something like him. It was the part of him that listened to Kenpachi cackling in his mind, accusing him of such things as denial and impossible feelings.

Byakuya raised his cup, hiding behind the plain porcelain. "Understandable," he responded, breathing in the aroma but not drinking.

There was a moment of silence before Ichigo spoke again, eyes closed and fingers rubbing the back of his neck where muscles cramped from stress. "I didn't have any answers for them. I didn't know what to say."

"You think it is a good idea for them to see her?"

Ichigo turned his attention back towards Byakuya. "They miss her, and I know she misses them. They are her children, too. I wouldn't think to keep them from her."

The other captain absorbed this for a moment, a suggestion banking at the back of his mind. Byakuya wondered the best way to delicately put it and then realized there was no other way than to simply state it. He only hoped Ichigo wouldn't react negatively.

"Ichigo..." he began but hesitated. And Byakuya was not normally one to hesitate, which captured Ichigo's attention. "I wouldn't suggest you continue without supervision."

Ichigo's brow furrowed. "I'll be there."

"That is a given," Byakuya conceded. "But not quite what I intended. I meant supervision so that she doesn't harm you again," he explained slowly, watching Ichigo carefully for his reaction.

Surprise flickered over Ichigo's face before it was quickly replaced with realization and then resignation. The expected blow-up did not occur, which Byakuya was grateful for. He did not want to alienate his best friend.

Ichigo exhaled, aging several years in that moment. "It's come to that, has it?" he asked and dropped his eyes to the desk.

It was wrong of him to do so, but Byakuya felt the need to express his own worries. "I fear it is my own fault for never noticing it before." He received a typical Ichigo scowl in response, indignation rising from him in waves.

"I don't need protection."

Byakuya tipped his head. "Yet, you allowed her to strike you for two decades." He paused and then decided that if not for his own sake that reminding Ichigo of his children would suffice. "Nor is it something that Kaien and Syaoran need witness again."

Any protest Ichigo might have had died instantly on his lips, and Byakuya hated himself for bringing that look of shame to his friend's face. Ichigo already considered himself a terrible father; Byakuya was only making it worse. He felt as if he were treading a very thin line, and every step was a choice between two equally painful results.

Ichigo sank back against the wall, covering his face with his hand. "I don't need any of those nosy people who think they know everything," he muttered, voice filled with irritation. "Otherwise, there will be violence of a different kind."

Byakuya felt his lip twitch at that, despite it being entirely inappropriate. "I will be there. That should suffice."

He watched as Ichigo's scowl deepened, for a minute looking all of sixteen again, lips pinching in annoyance. "Fine," he gritted out and roughly grabbed his brush, as if planning on taking out his anger on his paperwork.

Grey eyes watched him intently, sensing somehow that the firm and nearly white-knuckled grip he had on the brush meant that there was more yet for Ichigo to say. Of course, the fact that Ichigo wasn't actually writing anything but staring at the paper as if it were the cause of his ills might have also been his first clue. A single drop of ink, improperly dabbed from the well, dripped onto the paper and then the brush dropped down as quickly as it had been picked up.

Ichigo's gaze found the window, brow drawing downwards in deep thought. "I don't want it to be like this," he said softly, as though not quite conscious of his own admission. "I want everything to go away, for things to go back to the way they were."

Exactly what "were" was Ichigo referring to? There were so many. Before the children had ever been born? Before Rukia had been promoted? Before they had ever been married? There were too many pivotal points in their relationship for Byakuya to just simply assume and pin down one. He couldn't even begin to guess himself when anger had turned to violence, and a small part of him didn't want to know.

Confused, Byakuya tentatively questioned, "You want her to strike you?"

The look Ichigo shot him in return was a mix of horror and annoyance. "Of course not," he snapped, eyes flashing. "But I do want my wife back. I want my life back." His voice softened as though regretful of snapping at Byakuya. "I'm fucking tired of sleeping alone."

Ichigo's words, his very tone, triggered something in Byakuya, and he slowly inclined his head. "I understand," the noble replied, his own thoughts suddenly running rampant, treading the same rhythm as the strange staccato of his heart.

Despite whatever insinuations Zaraki had tried to convince him of, there really was nothing Byakuya wanted more than for his sister and Ichigo to work things out. He wanted his friend to be happy again, to see the family as it had once been. For Rukia to be happy, rather than strained and sleepless, for his nieces and nephews to have both of their parents. For the rumors to cease and for the constant pain to leave his best friend's eyes.

Yet, a part of him feared for Ichigo as well. He knew that the strikes could not have physically hurt that much, but Byakuya still didn't want Ichigo to suffer it anymore. He worried that if the two of them were to work things out, that Ichigo would be left always walking on tiptoes, afraid to offset a balance that would lead back to the abuse.

Byakuya couldn't help but feel caught in between the two of them, knowing that he should be supporting both Rukia and Ichigo. A part of him seemed to be drawn more towards his brother-in-law, as if Ichigo actually needed his protection.

"Yeah, maybe you do," Ichigo snipped at him, breaking Byakuya from his thoughtful reverie.

He was not offended by the nasty tone, able to recognize when Ichigo was merely reacting and not actually angry at him. Ichigo, however, seemed to catch himself with a sigh, scrubbing an anxious hand over his head.

"I'm sorry." His gaze dropped to the desk, examining the whorls of the dark wood. "I'm not very good company right now." Disappointment, likely in himself, radiated from his reiatsu.

He sounded so apologetic that Byakuya felt he had to protest. "If I wanted cheer, I would take Yachiru out for ice cream again."

Ichigo snorted. "The little brat would love it if you did." The brush finally scribbled over the paperwork, though it was nothing more than a signature. Operating on automatic, most likely. "All the little girls love you."

His lips twitched. "The same could be said about you," Byakuya countered, thinking of Nel and how the little Arrancar had stoutly clung to Ichigo, refusing to leave him alone. Even when the odds seemed stacked against her and she knew it wasn't safe, she didn't want to leave his side.

She had jealously guarded Ichigo against Rukia back then, claiming "Itsygo" as hers. Nel had never wanted to leave Ichigo's side, and it wasn't until she volunteered to be "Gin-chan's protector" that she finally stopped her clinging.

Even Yachiru was enthralled by Ichigo, enough that she would occasionally leap to his shoulder. He endured her weight as if she were nothing more than a feather, though he always outwardly blustered. He would tell her to get off but never actually tried to pry her free. It was protest for the sake of it, and everyone knew it.

A light knock on the door broke through Byakuya's thoughts as it was slid open, Ayasegawa sticking his head inside. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, smiling cheerily at Byakuya before redirecting his attention towards his captain. "But you wanted to oversee the practices for today, and they are ready to begin."

"Ah, I had nearly forgot," Ichigo responded and looked all too eager to abandon his paperwork. "Byakuya..."

The Kuchiki heir set his tea down and shook his head, already rising to his feet. "I am certain there is my own work I am supposed to be completing. Do not mind me." He lifted Senbonzakura from where he had set her next to him, sliding the zanpakutou into his obi.

"Alright. See you for lunch?"

Byakuya cursed himself for the warming that simple and innocent question provoked. "Of course."

He tipped his head in farewell to both captain and vice-captain and then excused himself. It was absolutely not a hasty exit to cover the strange feelings fluttering around inside of him. At least, that was what he was telling himself.

Kenpachi's words had nothing to do with anything. Not at all. And even if they did, there was nothing Byakuya was going to do about it.

He headed towards his own division, not that it was far away. He wasn't lying when he said there was work he had to do; he just found it far more interesting to talk with Ichigo than it was to complete mind-numbing evaluations and incidence reports.

* * *

Ichigo was anxious, more than he should have been. It wasn't his usual state to be uneasy about much of anything, but seeing his wife again after the separation and the rumors wasn't going to be simply casual. And his children seemed to have picked up on his anxiety, both Kaien and Syaoran quietly playing for once, not even his eldest making a loud peep. Ryuunosuke and Mikan both had been unwilling to take their nap earlier and were fidgety as a result. Ichigo thought it best to leave them in the nursery under Tohru's care.

Currently, they were outside in the garden, Ichigo and Byakuya perched on the porch. They watched the children enjoying the mild weather. It had finally cooled from the sticky warm temperatures they had been suffering lately. Syaoran was sifting her way through the flowers, picking a colorful collection to give her mother. Kaien was trying to climb one of the many large trees, threading his way through the branches as though he were part simian.

For the most part, it seemed a perfectly normal, perfectly peaceful scenario. Except that it wasn't because all of them were anxiously awaiting Rukia's arrival. Ichigo was noticeably silent, and Byakuya had long stopped trying to invoke conversation.

"Ichigo-san?"

It took great effort for Ichigo not to startle at the sound of Nami's voice, and he turned towards the sliding door that led back into the house. His housekeeper was standing there, bowing faintly.

"Yes?"

She gestured behind her, where a shorter form could just barely be made out in the dim of the interior. "Kurosaki-fukutaichou is here."

Ichigo nodded and rose to his feet as Byakuya remained seated. "Thank you, Nami."

Nami bowed again and stepped back into the house, leaving room for Rukia to exit onto the porch. It was all so formal that it struck a pang inside Ichigo. This was Rukia's house, too. And yet, she was being treated almost like a stranger, merely a visitor. The change was still startling to Ichigo, who finally laid eyes on his wife.

Her smile was thin. "I already stopped by to see the twins. I hope I'm not too early," Rukia said by way of greeting, hands clasped in front of her.

Though she looked tired and obviously strained, she was still a sight for sore eyes.

Ichigo shook his head. "No, it's fine."

His gaze raked over her, taking in the sight of her casual clothes. He remembered buying that kimono because he liked the way it looked on her. He remembered the surprise on her face when she realized he actually did have some taste in fashion. He never explained that Ishida had helped.

He was still in love with her; he knew it.

Ichigo felt awkward, two desires warring strongly in him. He wanted to keep a safe distance to spare himself the hurt of her rejection. But he also wanted to hold her because he couldn't stand to see that pained expression on her face. It was obvious that their separation and all the rumors were taking as much a toll on her as it was on him. If not more.

Blue eyes fell on her brother. "Good afternoon, nii-sama," Rukia greeted as Byakuya turned towards her, hands idly patting down invisible wrinkles in his kimono.

Byakuya's gaze was quick and appraising, displaying his own awkwardness. He hadn't spoken to Rukia since the entire affair came into light. It showed in their reactions towards each other. And he greeted her quietly with the same pained formality.

Ichigo inwardly sighed, turning towards the garden. "Kaien! Syaoran!" the man called, gathering their attention.

The two looked up at the sound of their names. Kaien immediately scampered down from the tree as Syaoran abandoned her flower-picking. The eldest of their children came their way as Ichigo looked back towards his wife, whose eyes were already taking on a noticeable sheen. She had missed their children. Ichigo was glad to know that. Maybe it wasn't entirely over. However, he inwardly hoped he wasn't seeing something that wasn't there.

"Go talk to them," Ichigo urged.

Rukia was already moving forward before he had even finished, stepping off the porch and onto the verdant grass. Several steps later, she met Kaien and Syaoran halfway, crouching to wrap her arms around both her children. The relief and happiness on her face was evident, even from the distance, as the two threw their arms around their mother.

She spoke to them, but the distance was too great for either of the men to make out her words clearly. Ichigo made a conscious effort not to listen, sighing as he lowered himself back to the porch. His gaze remained locked on his wife, however, watching as she spoke.

Rukia's smile widened as Syaoran handed over the bundle of flowers she had gathered for her mother. Kaien appeared to be excitedly talking about something, reenacting a sparring session with Ikkaku from the looks of it. He was swinging his arms about in an imitation of sword moves, ignoring Syaoran's disapproving stares for his energy.

' _The children need their mother_ ,' Ichigo reminded himself.

It was so very obvious by their behavior, by their reactions. He only wished Rukia could see it as well. That what he needed to do could be as obvious. If there was ever a moment he wanted to turn back time, it was now.

He wanted her back; he wanted their happiness back. He wanted his children to have their mother, to see Rukia's eyes light up as they used to. Their familiar banter, their teamwork. He wanted to kiss her again, to remember what she tasted like and how she felt in his arms. But then, he wondered if she even missed him. He simply couldn't tell.

Rukia laughed lightly, the sound carrying easy to Ichigo's ears. She used to laugh like that for him.

It struck him in that moment as he watched her smile and laugh with the children, that their relationship had been deteriorating for a long time. Not that he hadn't realized it before, but it hadn't been as apparent as it was now. She was only that open, that emotional with the children. She had been pulling away from him bit by bit. The distance between them, which he had been hoping to heal, was now a rift. A great chasm that he had no wings to cross.

"Ichigo."

The fifth-division captain blinked slowly, turning towards Byakuya. He was nearly surprised to find the concern hiding behind those grey irises.

"I'm fine," he answered on automatic, somehow knowing what Byakuya was going to say. He shifted his attention back to watching Rukia. "Honestly, I'm fine."

He missed the disbelieving flicker that crossed his companion's face. And the way Byakuya continued to watch him throughout the length of Rukia's visit.

Time seemed to drag for Ichigo, though logically it couldn't have been that long. He already knew Rukia wasn't planning on staying. She didn't want to give the children any false assurances or get their hopes up.

Urging them to go play, which they did with much reluctance and disappointment in their expressions, Rukia crossed the garden. She made her way back to Ichigo and Byakuya. Both rose to their feet this time, Ichigo noticing that Rukia's face was carefully concealing her emotions.

"Syaoran wants to be a princess," Rukia commented softly with a lingering glance towards her two eldest. "That's new."

Ichigo shot Byakuya a look. "You can blame your brother for that one," he informed his wife. "He wants an heir."

Chewing on her bottom lip for a minute, Rukia heaved a great breath and finally lifted her eyes to her husband. "Thank you. For telling them, I mean. I was going to if you hadn't, but..."

"It's fine," Ichigo interjected and something inside of him twisted quite painfully. "They were not happy about it, but they listened."

Rukia nodded, her gaze unconsciously turning back towards her children, following Kaien as he tugged his sister over to show her something on the tree he had climbed. Rukia's fingers still clutched the bouquet that Syaoran gave her, the flowers only serving to make the situation seem even more tense and awkward.

"I never... I didn't..." Her grip on the green stems tightened, one snapping quietly beneath the pressure. "I'm sorry."

Byakuya, feeling the part of an intruder, stood by silently. To see the both of them acting as strangers to one another when he had witnessed their prior intimacy was disheartening. No matter what Zaraki's words implied, he couldn't quite agree. Ichigo and Rukia loved each other. The pain they felt was obviously shared.

He couldn't help but feel like he was interfering in some way. A part of him wanted to give the couple some privacy, but the protective part of him, a part he didn't quite understand, refused to step away.

Beside the Kuchiki heir, Ichigo swallowed thickly, forcing himself to maintain calm. He wanted to go to her so badly that he had to lock his knees.

"How long?" he asked, hating that his voice came out hoarse and strained. "How long are you going to make them wait?"

He didn't ask what he really wanted to know. How long was she going to make _him_ wait as well? How much longer would he have to go through the same routine without any knowledge of the future? How much longer would he cling to something that may or may not even exist?

"I don't know," Rukia answered honestly. "I really don't, Ichigo." Her focus was still carefully trained on the floor, both of her hands now wrapped around the bouquet as if it were her lifeline.

"They want their mother back," Ichigo informed her, though he knew she had to have already realized it. "And I miss my wife." The last was added much quieter, almost as if he were too afraid to say it.

She stilled suddenly, another flower stem cracking with a delicate crush. "I know. And I'm sorry. I just..." Rukia paused, brow furrowing as she struggled to find the right words. "I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Because of what everyone else is saying?"

Her eyes snapped up towards his. "Because I don't want to hurt you again," Rukia countered, probably more sharply than she intended. Her eyes widened briefly, shame coloring her face as she remembered the presence of her brother.

Ichigo felt something pressing on his chest, like a great hand was squeezing him, fingers tightening around his heart. His gaze found the safety of the wall as he struggled to control his reaction. It wasn't that he hadn't known, but to hear her say it like that, admit it so simply, was painful.

Silence reigned on the porch, a pressing quiet that was broken only by the quiet sounds of Kaien and Syaoran in the background. Byakuya politely averted his eyes, courteously pretending he wasn't there to witness the slow decay of his best friend and his sister's marriage.

For several breaths, no one spoke or moved. Finally, Rukia firmed her lips and bowing faintly, all too politely.

"Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to see them," she said. With a last anxious glance towards her brother, Rukia stepped between the two captains and headed back into the house. She would let herself out.

Ichigo merely stood there, unable to go after her and unable to say anything. He sucked in several breaths, forcing himself to breathe through the tension. It felt as if every muscle in his body was strung tightly, coiling him into a ball of emotions that would never be unraveled. A hand settled on his shoulder, fingers squeezing briefly.

"It will be alright," Byakuya said simply, his comfort worth more than the thousand same words that had been given to Ichigo already.

Ichigo, however, had nothing to say in return. He nodded mutely, allowed Byakuya's hand to slip from his shoulder, and then stepped off the porch. The sudden need to be with his children overcame him as he headed for the tree Kaien was attempting to convince his sister to climb.

Byakuya watched him, feeling angry with himself for being unable to do anything _but_ watch. His heart cracked just a little as he watched Ichigo pull himself together, dredge up a smile for his children, and simply be strong. Be brave.

The Kuchiki heir turned away and entered the home, his feet taking him automatically towards the kitchen. There, Sanji had already wisely brewed some fresh tea and was in the midst of setting it at the table. Byakuya thanked the cook and took his seat, wrapping suddenly cold fingers around the warm cup.

He couldn't help but feel helpless. He had only been able to stand there and watch as they drifted further and further apart. As Rukia hinged on her decision, and Ichigo forced himself to stay strong. The whole of Seireitei was talking about the circumstances. Yet, no one stopped to think about how agonizing it must be for the parties involved. Only Byakuya was witness to the painful truth.

He wished wholeheartedly that his sister would decide what she wanted to do for the sake of the family she had left waiting. It wasn't fair to any of them. A part of Byakuya couldn't stand to see Ichigo in his current state. It was a battle that simple Kurosaki recklessness could not conquer.

Byakuya knew that politeness demand he steer clear of the entire affair. Or that he should probably find some way to support both sides. One his sister, the other his brother-in-law. Both parties were hurting. Both needed him. But here he was, still inexplicably drawn to Ichigo's side. He couldn't help but feel caught in between, Zaraki's accusations jittering back and forth in his mind and his own confusing emotions trying to catch up.

He sipped at his tea, barely tasting the liquid, though he was sure it had to have been brewed perfectly. Rukia looked, plainly put, exhausted and stretched thin, probably even more strained than Ichigo. And he had four children to care for. Byakuya wasn't unaware of the rumors or the treatment she was suffering, which made him feel all the more guilty for having not even spoken to her yet.

A tired sigh broke Byakuya from his musings, and he looked up to see Ichigo enter the room, raking a hand over his hair. He flopped down to the cushions, taking a seat at the table in front of Byakuya. As if on cue, Sanji appeared, carrying a tray with another cup of tea for the master of the house.

"There you are," Ichigo said and he thanked the cook with a strained, half-smile.

"Here, I am," Byakuya answered and watched his friend over the rim of his cup. "Where are the children?"

The spoon clinked against the side as he stirred in sugar. "Tohru's watching over them," he responded dismissively, tone leaden and thick. He stared at the warm liquid as he curled his fingers around the cup, examining the contents as though they held the answers Ichigo sought.

There was a moment of comfortable pause where Byakuya simply watched him before Ichigo finally lifted his gaze to the other man, looking both sad and weary.

"You need to talk to her."

Byakuya blinked at the unexpected suggestion, which on retrospect, nearly sounded like an order. "What?"

"She's your sister," Ichigo explained, pushing around his cup but not drinking it. "I'm grateful you're helping me, but she needs your support, too."

The other captain didn't respond, lowering his gaze to the safety of the table. He knew that his best friend was right but had been struggling with admitting it to himself just moments before. It was almost as if Ichigo had known. Or perhaps he had just noticed the awkward atmosphere between Byakuya and his sister.

Ichigo continued, despite Byakuya's silence. "Probably more than I do. I know she thinks you're going to abandon her. You and the rest of the Kuchiki."

A faint scowl decorated Ichigo's lips, clearly showing just how much he thought of the whole noble clan. It was the main reason he had turned down their offer of living in a manor within the Kuchiki grounds and anywhere near their influence. He preferred his own merits, his own money, and his own success. Ichigo didn't want to be the Kuchiki's lap dog or their figurehead.

Byakuya didn't blame him. He didn't much like it himself.

Byakuya nodded slowly, wondering why he couldn't just agree with Ichigo, why his heart wanted to lean towards his brother-in-law. "I will speak with her," he reluctantly agreed.

Though inwardly, he dreaded it. What in Soul Society would he say?

The look on Ichigo's face, however, reflected his relief. And it caused that traitorous part of Byakuya to warm slightly. It had nothing to do with the tea either.

"Thank you," Ichigo replied. "I don't want her to be entirely alone in this."

Inclining his head, Byakuya made a noncommittal hum of agreement and returned his attention to the tea. Ichigo never noticed, his own thoughts a weighty distraction as he moodily contemplated his cup and the view from the dining room window. In the kitchen, beyond Sanji bustled around, likely preparing dinner.

He honestly hadn't spoken more than a greeting to Rukia since the whole incident came into the light. Perhaps he had been unconsciously avoiding her because he didn't have anything to say, didn't know _what_ to say. He knew part of it was his anger towards her and what she had done. The rest, he wasn't entirely sure.

Ichigo wasn't the only one to request it either. The elders of the Kuchiki clan had also demanded that he speak with Rukia because, according to them, she was shaming their name. As if Byakuya cared about such things. The pride of the noble house of Kuchiki was the least important part of the entire debacle. Nevertheless, they had been pressuring him to do so.

Any further conversation the two captains was interrupted as the children came rushing into the room, trailed by their nanny. To be more precise, Kaien came barreling in, latching onto his father and nearly bowling him over. Syaoran entered at a more leisurely pace, making her way towards Byakuya.

"My apologies, Ichigo-san," Tohru inserted as she joggled the weight of the twins in her arms. "They wanted to be with you."

Kaien's fingers tugged on his father's sleeve to get his attention. "Tou-san, please spar with me," he pleaded, looking up at Ichigo.

There was more gleaming in his eyes than just the desire to train, however, and even Byakuya could see it. He simply wanted to be close to the only stable thing left in his life. The visit with his mother must have affected him more strongly than he was willing to show. Trying to be stronger than he was, just like his father. It must be a Kurosaki trait.

Settling a hand on Kaien's hand, Ichigo looked up at the nanny. "It's fine, Tohru," he assured her, ruffling black hair affectionately. "Do you think you can watch the twins for me?"

She nodded, giving the two little ones a fond look. "Without difficulty. They are no trouble at all."

A presence at Byakuya's side announced Syaoran's arrival as she edged near him, standing at his right shoulder. Yet, her eyes were on her father and her brother, watching their exchange with interest and a hint of jealousy.

Byakuya set down his tea. "And you, hime, what are you in the mood for doing?" he asked.

She turned a beaming smile towards him, always flushing at her favorite nickname. "Yuzu-obaa-san gave me a game. Will you play it with me?" Lingering traces of jealousy faded in her rising excitement.

Across the table, Ichigo snorted. "Don't let her trick you with that cute smile, Byakuya," he warned. "That game is scary."

Byakuya blinked even as Syaoran giggled, her smile increasing. "Tou-chan doesn't like it," she explained while Ichigo made a face at his daughter, prompting her to giggle again. "But Tohru plays with me all the time."

Rising to his feet, Ichigo glanced between uncle and niece, a sly smirk creeping onto his lips. "Then again," he amended, cocking his head to the side. "It might suit you, after all, Kuchiki-hime."

Byakuya's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded and squared his shoulders indignantly. Ichigo knew how much he hated that nickname in particular.

He was ignored, however, as the other captain ruffled his son's hair again. He also ignored the scowl of annoyance it produced as small hands shot up to protect his carefully styled spikes.

"Come on, squirt. Go get your bokken."

"Un."

Kaien scurried away and vanished from the kitchen in an instant. The pitter-patter of feet down the hall proved his direction to be towards his room, to retrieve the practice katana that had been given to him on his last birthday by Kaku-oji-san.

In his son's absence, Ichigo returned his attentions to the nanny. "If you need to leave, just bring the twins to me."

She inclined her head. "Yes, Ichigo-san."

He moved to her side, brushing his fingers over the twin's hair. The two little ones barely stirred, though Mikan squirmed impatiently. She tried to reach for him with a fist, likely intending to protest the mussing as he disturbed her ever important nap.

Ichigo chuckled at her behavior. "They'll probably be fine if you put them outside on a blanket on the grass. They can watch their brother spar."

Tohru smiled warmly, displaying infinitely patience as she listened to Ichigo, ever the worrying father. "I know, Ichigo-san." Her dark eyes tilted towards the twins. "They always behave, don't you?"

Mikan, as if knowing she was being spoken to, burbled up at the nanny. One foot kicked out, consequently striking Ryuunosuke. Her brother didn't seem to mind, just grunted and yawned as he settled back down for his nap.

Returning Tohru's smile with a half-hearted quirk of his own, Ichigo turned in the direction Kaien had taken. "Don't run with those!" he suddenly called out, hearing rapid footsteps on the floor. Though he was unable to see his son, he was certain that was exactly what the young boy was doing.

Byakuya, however, found it rather ironic. Ichigo ran around all the time with Zangetsu, waving it wildly. Not only was the zanpakutou a far more dangerous weapon, it was also heavier with a sharper point.

"Excuse me, Kuchiki-taichou." With a faint bow, Tohru excused herself from the room, taking the twins with her.

With a lingering sip to his tea, Byakuya rose to his feet.

Syaoran's hand grabbed his, tangling their fingers together. "Will you play with me?" she asked hopefully, looking up at him.

Blinking out of his reverie, he gazed down at his niece, offering her a small smile. "Of course, my future heir, what is the game?"

She beamed up at him, tugging him out of the room without further preamble. "I think you'll have fun. It's called _Pretty, Pretty Princess_."

Suddenly, Ichigo's reaction made a remarkable amount of sense. Byakuya inwardly vowed to make him pay for that joke. Yet, for the little girl desperately wanting something to cling to, he supposed he could do away with his pride. If only for a little while. That innocent smile did him in every time, much like a certain familiar, fierce scowl.

If anything, it would be a successful distraction from all the thoughts smacking against each other inside his head.

* * *

 


	14. Decisions

The silence between them was both loud and awkward. Rukia's stomach churned at the lack of sound, at the unease between she and her brother. They had improved their relationship over the years, having finally begun to act like real siblings. But now, it was like they had returned to step one, awkwardly trying to find an existence that included one another when they had only recently met.

They were at her quarters, decidedly neutral ground, sitting across from each other. A tray of tea sat between them, completely untouched and likely to stay that way. Rukia had been surprised to open the door and find her brother on the other side. If anything, she had expected to be summoned to the Kuchiki manor for something much more official. A part of her would have preferred that. At least, then she would know what to anticipate.

Now, with him sitting in front of her and looking everywhere but at her, she felt a little sick on the inside. As if she had destroyed more than just her relationship with Ichigo and the children with her mistakes.

Her fingers clenching on her knees, Rukia fought to keep from appearing too stressed. "How is Ichigo?" she asked, just to break the uncomfortable silence. She couldn't take it anymore. "He and the children?"

"Confused," Byakuya answered simply and slowly, as though he were fighting with himself for the same reason as she. "And hurt. They miss you."

Rukia winced, a sigh escaping from her lips. "I know." She paused, hating that it had come to this, returning to discomfited uncertainty. She was suddenly back eighty-or-so years, sitting in front of her new brother and trying her damn best to make him proud without knowing how to do it.

"Nii-sama... thank you for taking care of them."

He shifted, an unusual action for a man as composed as Byakuya, and finally dragged his eyes towards her. "It is my duty."

Her brow raised. "Your duty?" Rukia repeated and then shook her head, not believing entirely. It was another typical Byakuya-response that she readily recognized. "How are Isshin, Yuzu, and Karin?"

"They are getting along fine," he answered after a moment's thought. "Karin was rather angry, but Ichigo spoke with her."

Rukia knew the moment he realized what she was aiming for as he paused, eyes narrowing. Duty demanded that he aid Ichigo in caring for the children, that he provide support in making sure their needs were met. Friendship and probably something more encouraged him to follow Ichigo, who was only his brother-in-law, to Karakura for the week-long vacation.

She watched as he took a deep breath.

"And you?"

At the abrupt change in subject, Rukia blinked. "What?"

"How are you?"

Surprise filtered through. She had both not expected and expected the question. Even this many decades later, she was still no better at reading Byakuya and his actions. He continued to surprise her.

Rukia's fingers spasmed on her knee, despite her attempts to keep a clamp on them. "Tired," she replied. "And I miss them as well. I don't want to lose my family, but..." she trailed off, unable to think of anything to add that wasn't leading into another uncertain circle.

Her brother, however, wasn't willing to let the lack of answer slide. "But?" he prompted and watched her closely.

She didn't answer. There was no simple way to explain herself.

Byakuya prodded her again. "Rukia, what do you wish to do? You cannot force them to wait like this."

"I know," she put in tiredly, wincing at the hint of reproach in his tone. "It's not a simple choice though. Do I give up my family? I can't just do that. I don't _want_ to do that."

"I realize as much," Byakuya said with infinite patience, borne more from his uncertainty than a complete calm towards the situation. "But you only hurt them by being reluctant to make the decision. They cling to a thin hope, and it will be more painful the longer you draw it out." Grey eyes watched as Rukia's hands kneaded her knees, gaze drawn to the side where it seemed safe.

"I don't want to hurt him anymore," she said quietly, forehead wrinkling. "Just drawing away wasn't enough. I fear that if I stay with him, I'll only hurt him again."

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that, and a heavy silence settled between them. Byakuya wanted to ask, to demand why, but he couldn't find the words. He felt he was too close to the situation, that he couldn't be rational. Not when it was his sister and best friend, who also happened to be his brother-in-law. Not when he had seen just what this whole situation had done to the both of them, what it was still doing to them. Not when he simply wanted to see the both of them happy again.

"I'm sure you want to know," Rukia suddenly began but hesitated. "You've heard the rumors, I know. But... it's not what you think."

Byakuya swallowed. "Ichigo has told me as much," he responded, the silence of her quarters grating on him for reasons beyond his understanding. "I would like to hear your side, however."

She sucked in a deep breath. "There's so much I could say. Excuses I could give. The stress and the frustration and just _everything_. But none of that really means anything, does it?"

"I do not know. You tell me."

Rukia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "It really doesn't," she repeated. "Now, we're all suffering. In the end, does it really matter why? I moved out because I knew that if I didn't, he would have just let it all go on. He wouldn't have said anything; he would have just bore it. Just like he did everything else we put on him during the war."

His throat tightened in remembrance. Byakuya himself was surprised Ichigo was even willing to be in Soul Society at all considering what Yamamoto had convinced him of so many times. Leading battles when all he had wanted to do was rescue a friend, to save his hometown. Seireitei made Ichigo their figurehead when he hadn't wanted the job.

He never had done anything for thanks or medals or hero-status. He had done it because someone had to and he wasn't the type to stand aside and wait for someone else to act.

"I don't have an explanation," Rukia continued without any prompting on his part. It seemed that was what she needed to hear from him. "Not a good one. And I won't waste time with excuses. Ichigo deserves better."

"Rukia, you don't need to explain anything else," he inserted, even as she opened her mouth to say something more. Likely a rehash of what she already said.

A moment of silence passed as she nodded, comprehension clear in her expression.

Finally, she reached forward, fiddling with the tea but not drinking it. "What have the elders to say?" Rukia questioned in a deceptively light tone. "I know they must be displeased."

"Displeasure is not quite accurate," Byakuya answered slowly, holding back on an annoyed sigh. "They are both outraged and humiliated. I have been approached by the elders on more than one occasion. They demand that I disown you."

Her face fell, though her look clearly showed that she had expected as much. "I assumed that it would end up like this."

"It is, however, my decision," Byakuya clarified when something in him tugged at the sight of her sorrow. "I don't like what has happened, but I do take responsibility. For being the one who brought you into the clan."

Blue eyes widened marginally. "No," Rukia stated firmly. "No. I can't let you do that."

"What?"

Her hands returned to her lap and clenched around the fabric of her kimono. "The actions were my own," she explained, gaze meeting his resolutely. "Let them fall on me."

He studied her for several long moments. "Very well, then I will let you decide."

She clenched one hand, a wave of uncertainty mixed flashing through her escaping reiatsu. "I don't care for the particulars of nobility or anyone else in the Kuchiki clan."

Rukia looked at him. And for a moment, he swore that he saw Hisana telling him that she was dying. It was the same apologetic glance.

"But I don't want to lose my brother."

In his heart, he knew he didn't want to lose his sister either. They had come too far. He might be angry with her for her treatment of Ichigo. He might be disappointed. But in the past years, he had grown to love Rukia as his sister. He had grown to accept her as his true family and not just an obligation he fulfilled. There were few in the Kuchiki line who he cherished, and Byakuya was loathe to lose that.

A part of him also understood. Rukia was not malicious by nature, nor was she intentionally out to bring pain and ruin to Ichigo. While Byakuya didn't know entirely the whole situation, somewhere inside he felt he could at least understand somehow.

He took a breath. "Then, if you are willing to withstand their scrutiny, I will put in my word for you."

It was the closest to "I love you" that he could say without speaking the words. Even as close as they had drawn, he still found it impossible to say such things aloud.

The relief in her face and the gratitude made everything worth it. Her eyes practically shimmered with tears, though she blinked them away. Abruptly wiping at the glimmer of wetness with the back of her hand, she bowed a bit too formally for his liking. They were still treading the line of familiarity and courtesy.

"Thank you, nii-sama," Rukia stated in a choked voice. "And I apologize for bringing this shame into the family."

"I have already learned when rules are to be broken," he said, perhaps a bit too stiffly. But it was as close to affection as a man like him could express. He looked away, towards the unadorned wall of Rukia's quarters that didn't resemble home at all. "I have also learned what it means to be a brother."

Rukia was quiet as he spoke, letting him say his peace. With some effort, he dragged his gaze back towards her.

"I will stand by you, but I cannot have you hurt him again."

She inclined her head, looking at him with something broken behind her eyes. It made him ache, too. Just a little. It was clearly regret, clearly a wish to go back into time and change _everything_. It was so similar to the same look that he caught in Ichigo's eyes from time to time that Byakuya was stunned.

"I won't. I swear it," Rukia whispered.

And he believed her.

Byakuya breathed a sigh of relief. "That is all I wanted to hear."

"Thank you."

He watched as she took several deep, steadying breaths, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders.

"Nii-sama, I know what they are saying about me."

The captain had heard them also. Most, he didn't believe. Others echoed the Kenpachi-cackle in the back of his mind. He could even hear the insinuations. He wondered if that was where Rukia was trying to head.

"I have as well," he replied and attempted to ignore the sudden stutter-beat of his heart. "Rest assured, I do not fall prey to rumor. I care not for what the idle passerby may claim."

She looked relieved, but it melted away. "I know. I wasn't concerned that you believed them. Though in part, one may not be entirely inaccurate."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Rukia looked as if she wanted to demand an answer and yet never ask the question at the same time. It was clear that it was something that had haunted her for quite some time. Many nights must have been spent in thought and worry, etching deeper lines of worry and frustration.

A part of Byakuya squirmed in unease.

"I never blamed either of you for it," Rukia began softly. "And I suppose it's partly my fault for noticing but choosing to ignore."

Byakuya felt his pulse pick up a faster rhythm because he knew exactly what she meant. He suddenly didn't want to hear.

"Rukia, there's--"

She shook her head, cutting him off. It was something she only recently managed to be able to do.

"I know that," Rukia interrupted. "I know there's nothing between you and Ichigo. But there's something. And there always has been."

"Rukia," Byakuya started, his own fingers clenching against his knees as he struggled to find the right words. "I don't know how to respond to that. Except to say that it honestly isn't true."

She looked at him. And he wasn't sure how to describe the emotions blazing behind her eyes.

"I don't want you to say anything. For the same reason I never made an issue of anything before." She rose to her feet, gaze never leaving his. "But I've also learned the hard way that the longer you deny something the worse the end becomes."

Her insinuations stung more sharply than Kenpachi's for some reason, likely because it was coming from his sister rather than a captain he barely tolerated. As if he should stop trying to fool himself and start listening to the truth.

Byakuya was unable to say a single word, rising to his feet silently as his younger sister stared at him with all the knowledge in the world. A part of him felt he should apologize for reasons beyond his understanding.

"Thank you for coming, nii-sama," Rukia said instead, breaking the tense silence with a bow that was painfully polite. "I appreciate it."

He took her words as a cue to leave. It was growing late, after all, and he had come to say what he wanted to. He had a feeling the rest would be thinking material for late at night.

"If you need anything," Byakuya replied, catching her eyes, "do not hesitate to ask. I am still your brother."

"I know," Rukia answered. "I know." She smiled then, something real and true that actually shifted her expression away from the sorrow and regret that had been lingering.

* * *

A month and nothing had changed.

Ichigo had noticed this fact with a morose sigh, feeling the eyes that seemed determined to track his movements. Even when he was doing something as innocuous as having lunch with Shunsui. There were still whispers, though they were in less frequency and not as audible, and he was still being stared at. The rumors weren't as wild as they had been in the beginning, but they hadn't been completely eradicated. He supposed that since neither he nor Rukia talked to anyone about it, there was little to feed them.

One month, barely thirty days, had passed. Yet, it felt like so much longer to Ichigo. It was one month of sleeping in an empty bed, of coming home to take care of four children on his own, two of whom always had questions. One month of wondering and worrying, of waiting. One month of Rukia visiting once a weekend with the children, while Ichigo and she shared painfully polite conversation. One month of "I don't know."

Ichigo was nearly at his wit's end, barely clinging to his control. He wanted to scream, to destroy something. He longed for a war, for a battle, for something to take out his frustrations on. But mostly, he wished for someone to have the answers. He didn't know what he was supposed to do anymore.

Thus the reason for lunch with Shunsui.

Ichigo desperately needed advice and didn't want to go to Jyuushiro or Byakuya for it. Shunsui was the only one he knew who was aware of the entire situation outside of the immediate parties involved. Not that Ichigo had made mention of his ulterior motive when he finally accepted Shunsui's invitation for lunch.

Ichigo kept his silence throughout the entire meal, letting Shunsui carry the conversation all on his own. They had stealthily avoided the topic of discussion. Now that they were out in the open, walking the outskirts of Seireitei, Ichigo felt he could finally address his questions. Only, he didn't even know where to begin.

Beside him, Shunsui plucked his hat off his head, waving the straw to fan his face. "The days are getting warmer and warmer," he remarked, tilting his head back to stare up at the sun and cloudless sky. "It looks like summer's going to be hotter than usual unfortunately."

Ichigo didn't respond, making a noncommittal sound of agreement in his throat. His eyes unconsciously scanned the area, pleased to find that they were mostly alone. A few random Shinigami scampered here and there, but they seemed too harried to be concerned with the passing captains. A polite nod of greeting was all that they managed before they were gone.

From the corner of his eye, Shunsui watched his companion. He had the sense that Ichigo wanted to speak from the moment he accepted the lunch invitation.

"What is it, Ichigo? You look like you have something on your mind?"

Ichigo snorted at the obvious statement. "Considering all that's happened, I'd be more surprised if I didn't."

Their waraji padded nearly silent on the tiled walk. Somewhere in the distance were the sounds of people sparring. The dull thunder of kidoh practice. Smells wafted their direction from the mess. It seemed so perfectly normal and content.

Finally, Shunsui broke the silence between them, all traces of his normal joviality pushed away for the sake of seriousness. "Would you like to talk about it?

An opportunity given when he wasn't ready. But it only prompted Ichigo's silence. He didn't even know _what_ he wanted to ask. And a part of him was tired of everything, hearing everyone's opinions, hearing the rumors.

Sensing his hesitation, Shunsui's hat found his head again. "Very well, how about I talk then?"

"It's not as easy as asking someone what I'm supposed to do," Ichigo suddenly blurted out, hands clenching at his sides in an effort to refrain from throwing them into the air and making a spectacle of himself.

Shunsui inclined his head. "This is true," he conceded, folding his arms into his sleeves. He paused and figured that he was about to suggest something that might offend the younger captain. "Have you considered divorce?"

He was relieved when Ichigo didn't immediately explode with anger. Instead, there was a soft sort of silence that spoke a thousand words. Ichigo's gaze fell to the ground in thought, and it was all the proof Shunsui needed. Divorce had crossed Ichigo's mind, and it was no longer as quickly dismissed as it had been before.

"I love her, Shunsui," Ichigo finally said with none of the bluster he had all those years ago when he had first admitted it. "I don't want to leave her."

The older captain hummed thoughtfully. "Is it her you love? Or the idea of your marriage to her?"

More silence greeted the question.

"Or maybe that's not it," Shunsui posed, sensing he was getting close to the truth. "You can still love her and not be _in_ love with her, Ichigo."

One hand raked through orange strands, mussing up hair that remained perpetually unstyled. "My children need their mother," Ichigo countered flatly.

"That also may be true," Shunsui conceded. "But I think they don't need to see their mother abusing their father either."

The full force of a Kurosaki glare beamed into the side of his face. "Don't call it that," Ichigo put in, voice cold and very nearly sounding like the Kuchiki Byakuya.

"Then what would you like to call it?" Shunsui asked mildly, watching Ichigo's reaction from the corner of his eyes. "That's what it _was_. Whether you admitted it or not."

He was not surprised by Ichigo's silence, though he could tell the younger captain was thinking. He understood Ichigo's reluctance to name the truth. It was like announcing to the world just what he let his wife do to him. And while Ichigo had never been the type focused on pride, he was still a man, and it was a major blow to his virility.

"You're not alone in this," Shunsui added. "And they will still get to see her, even if you were to part ways."

Ichigo frowned, brow drawing deeper and deeper, making him appear years older than before. He appreciated what Shunsui was telling him, knowing that the older captain was correct. Byakuya was always willing to lend a hand. Jyuushiro practically begged to babysit. He had Tohru, Nami, and Sanji in his household. Not to mention his family in Karakura. It would not be the same as raising them alone in the Living World. Yet, all those caretakers could not replace Rukia's presence.

Nor could they replace her in his heart either. He didn't want to give Rukia up so easily, even if a part of him was slowly realizing that it was already over. A part of him had already realized it, and the rest just refused to accept. He caught himself wondering if she even loved him anymore. It just seemed like she wasn't even trying for them. As if she had given up long before he had.

Finally, Ichigo sighed. "You might be right."

"Of course, I am," Shunsui agreed with a grin. He was glad that Ichigo was starting to understand. "I've lived centuries longer. I think that I know a few things."

"Mmmm." Ichigo's hum was perfectly noncommittal.

Shunsui thought it was the perfect time to throw something different at the younger man, something to keep him on his toes. He and Kenpachi had had an interesting conversation recently about a certain pair of oblivious friends, and Shunsui had to agree with the other captain. Something needed to be done. And it was time for Shunsui to take a turn stirring up the pot.

He flipped his hat into the air and situated it back on his head. "Including where else your heart may lean," he added almost nonchalantly.

Ichigo abruptly stopped and whirled to stare at Shunsui suspiciously. "Just what the hell are you talking about?"

Even the eighth division captain could see the hint of comprehension, however. "Come now, Ichi-chan," he prodded, wondering if he was having far too much fun with this. "You aren't nearly as oblivious as he is."

Brown eyes glared so fiercely that Shunsui almost believed his favorite haori was about to spontaneously burst into flame. "There's nothing between us," Ichigo retorted, shoulders drawn taut with tension.

"And yet, you knew exactly who I meant without any names." The older man couldn't help the bit of sparkle of amusement in his tone.

It wasn't that he didn't like Rukia. She and Ichigo were wonderful together, and he wished for nothing more than for them to be happy as a couple. But more than that, he wanted Ichigo to be happy. And it was obvious, even if neither realized it, that their marriage was on a steady slide downwards. Even if they ever managed to work out the situation, nothing would ever be the same. No matter how much either of them wished for it.

"It's pretty damn obvious," Ichigo muttered. He grinded his jaw. "Especially since Rukia has already accused me of the same."

He couldn't help but wonder why everyone seemed to be pushing it. His friends. His family's insinuations. Everywhere he turned, someone implied something. He was _just_ friends with Byakuya. Nothing more. It was getting to the point of ridiculous. Even Rukia had said something.

Shunsui lifted a hand and touched the brim of his hat as he eyed the younger captain. "It's something to think about."

"Or you're just trying to convince me to divorce her," Ichigo returned with a faint huff, shifting his gaze towards the faint sounds of sparring in the distance. His fingers twitched, reminding him that he'd not effectively used Zangetsu in a long time.

In the back of his mind, Shirosaki tugged. He hadn't used his Hollow either, and he was not only getting restless but was still suffering from inclement weather. He wondered if it were wrong of him to miss the war. When he hadn't had time to think. Only act and react. Fight for his life, fight to protect, fight to win. There was no time for dramatic bullshit and nonsense. None of it mattered when it was life and death.

Shunsui kept his silence, not offended by Ichigo's brusque brush-off. The other captain was merely retaliating out of a mixture of confusion and understanding. Shunsui knew that a part of Ichigo was already aware of what he needed to do. He just wasn't ready to do it. The older man supposed he would be much the same way. He hadn't had chance to marry himself, but if he had, Shunsui knew he wouldn't have been able to let go of his wife easily either.

With a final, frustrated sigh, Ichigo turned away, face pinched with thought. "Thanks for the advice," he said and began to head back the way they had came. "And lunch."

"Don't forget," Shunsui called after him, voice entirely too cheery. "You're meeting Jyuu-chan and I for drinks on Friday!"

Ichigo threw a wave over his shoulder to prove he had heard, leaving Shunsui to shrug and grin as he continued on his way. He was already whistling under his breath, contemplating what to bring his lovely Nanao-chan in apology for skipping out on work again.

His path took Ichigo towards one of the recreation areas on the edge of the Gotei 13's compound. It had been specifically designed for relaxation and resembled a city park from the Living World with an abundance of artfully crafted benches and vegetation. A small stream ran through the midst of the area, babbling quietly in the heat of the afternoon. It was one of the few places that no one would look for him, especially if he pulled in his reiatsu.

He found a lone tree near the back, a place rarely used because it was so far from the entrance. Despite not being in full bloom, Ichigo easily recognized the beauty of a sakura. He reached behind him and removed Zangetsu to set the zanpakutou down beside him. A part of him thought it ironic as he sat beneath the reaching branches, his back to the trunk. Closing his eyes, Ichigo took slow and steady breaths.

He both did and did not want to think. Honestly, he was absolutely tired of thinking. His mind had been entirely occupied with events as of late. With Rukia and the children and Byakuya and circumstances. He was frustrated and worn thin, stuck playing the waiting game with his emotions on a zanpakutou's edge.

A faint surge of reiatsu. A tickling on his senses. And then, the world changed. Ichigo knew without having to open his eyes who had appeared in front of him. The wind, lightly pressing against his sides, had taken on a chilly note that it hadn't held before in the early summer heat.

"Ichigo," a voice rumbled above him, a very familiar tone that he was used to hearing echo inside his head. His zanpakutou thrummed beside him.

He peeled open his eyes. Ossan appeared a little damp, water droplets speckling his dark glasses and a faint sheen to his black robes. The expression on Zangetsu's face was saddened, even with the sunglasses shielding his eyes.

"Ossan," Ichigo greeted, one hand raising to the rub the back of his head. It didn't take a genius to figure out why Zangetsu had appeared. "It's a little wet, huh?"

Zangetsu didn't waver in the face of the obvious. "You're distressed," he inferred, hands hidden in the voluminous folds of his robe and dark fabric ruffling around him.

Closing his eyes once more, Ichigo knocked his head against the trunk of the tree. "You could say that," he answered with a mirthless laugh.

"Shirosaki often complains," Zangetsu explained. "He doesn't like the cold." Somehow, the way he spoke tended to sound like a chastisement. And perhaps it was.

Ichigo's fingers idly threaded through the grass beneath him and tugged at the green shoots. "I'm sorry," he murmured, knowing that the melancholy he currently felt probably wasn't helping matters. "But it's not something that can easily be fixed."

"I'm aware of that."

He shook his head. "I know. I know. You're part of me and everything." He popped open one eye, watching the spirit of his zanpakutou. "Did you come to offer advice, too?"

Zangetsu looked at him, cloak still rustling in an invisible breeze. "There is nothing I could tell you that you do not already know."

In some ways, the Ossan reminded him of Urahara. It was annoying.

"As cryptic as always," Ichigo replied with a snort. "I should have known."

The look he received in return was half-bemused and half-sorrowful, if there even was such a thing. "You keep making decisions based on your children alone," Zangetsu commented, voice a smooth baritone. "Have you even once considered your own happiness?"

"No such thing," Ichigo answered and shifted against the bark of the tree. The heat was soaking into his skin and bones, making him feel lazy and relaxed for once. "Theirs is more important." He idly considered a nap.

He could feel those eyes watching him and measuring him as always. "Maybe their smiles are linked to your own."

Ichigo peered at Zangetsu, the spirit of his sword, who was essentially a part of him. "You agree with all the rumors?" he asked with a note of suspicion in his tone.

"I can accept some things that you seem unable to."

The captain groaned. He knew that if Zangetsu believed in anything the masses were saying, then a part of Ichigo did too somewhere deep inside. He wasn't fooling anyone, not even himself. It was rather pathetic.

"The answers are there, Ichigo. If you look hard enough."

He waved off Ossan with one hand, closing his eyes with the actual intention to nap now. He didn't want to think anymore. He just wanted to not do anything.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Zangetsu."

There was no response as Zangetsu dissolved away with a faint pulse of reiatsu, back to Ichigo's inner mind. Where it was cold and damp, rain likely falling in endless monotony. He sent both Ossan and Shirosaki another silent apology.

His fatigue attacked him, making his muscles as strong as jelly. Before Ichigo knew it, he was being lulled by the quiet and the heat of the afternoon. He hadn't slept well in so long that it overcame him, and his breathing evened. He drifted away.

* * *

Byakuya stepped into the recreation area with a faint frown, warm summer wind tugging at his shihakushou and attempting to dampen his forehead with sweat. It was bright outside, despite the slowly descending sun. His gaze swept around the colorful vegetation and caught sight of empty benches in his attempts to find Ichigo.

After his conversation with Rukia the day before, he had subtly avoided his best friend in an attempt to come to terms with some of what she had told him. He still didn't quite want to admit any of her insinuations, but he at least wanted to let Ichigo know that he had done as the other captain had asked. However, in visiting the fifth division, Ayasegawa had informed him that Ichigo wasn't in.

The vice-captain had been on his way out the door, arms laden with signed documents and reports, likely to be taken to the administrative workers where they would be sorted and properly filed. Ayasegawa had explained that Ichigo was likely in his favorite hiding spot. A place that Ichigo believed no one knew about.

In any case, Ayasegawa's directions led him to the recreation area with hints to check near the back. Despite the fact that he wasn't particularly fond of playing fetch for anyone, Byakuya left in search of Ichigo. He didn't miss the knowing smirk on the vice-captain's face either, though he purposefully ignored commenting on it. Everyone in Soul Society was too damn nosy for their own good.

Pushing away thoughts of the flirty vice-captain's insinuations, Byakuya headed deeper into the park. He skirted around flower beds and took the small bridge over the tree. A scan with his senses gave him hints of captain-class reiatsu towards his left. He recognized the faint pulses as belonging to Ichigo. Ayasegawa had been right.

Swinging his gaze around and stepping into of a small grove of trees he couldn't begin to identify, Byakuya finally found his quarry. Ichigo was sitting at the base of a sakura, leaning against the trunk. He had one knee drawn up, single hand resting in his lap with the other casually resting on Zangetsu's hilt. His eyes were closed, head tilted to the side. And the constant but steady rhythm of his chest moving up and down announced his slumber.

Byakuya stopped a few feet away, a slight frown dipping his limbs. Ichigo looked peaceful for once, lines of worry erased from his face. Byakuya couldn't help but wonder how much sleep his friend had actually been getting lately. Obviously not enough if he was willing to fall asleep in the middle of nowhere with literally no protection around him except for his instincts. Which obviously weren't any good since Byakuya had approached with no problem. Unless Ichigo didn't even register him as something to be wary of. Except that headed into a whole flurry of Zaraki-insinuations that Byakuya wasn't about to touch.

It took several long seconds for Byakuya to realize that he had been standing and staring at his best friend for a time that had long passed simple curiosity and rapidly headed into something much, much deeper. Inwardly cursing at himself, he shook out of his wandering, rampant thoughts.

"Ichigo?" he questioned, loud enough to wake the other captain but not so loud that it would startle him into a battle-ready stance.

One orangish eyebrow twitched, fingers shifting ever-so-slightly around Zangetsu's hilt. He really was in a deep sleep. Much needed perhaps, but Byakuya wasn't going to let him sleep outside for the remainder of the evening. He decided to try something a bit more... forceful.

Byakuya took a deep breath and let out a firm but short burst of reiatsu, directing it towards the sleeping captain. It was strong enough that he knew anyone nearby would be able to sense, but it wasn't like he was deliberately trying to be stealthy anyway.

He knew the moment Ichigo felt it because his fingers curled around the hilt of Zangetsu before he even awoke. His eyes popped open, body tense and on alert as his own reiatsu rose in response, simmering around his body with intent to attack should the need arise. It took Ichigo only seconds to spot Byakuya in front of him.

He immediately calmed, pulling his reiatsu back into his body and relaxing his grip on his zanpakutou. "Byakuya," Ichigo greeted, closing his eyes and knocking his head against the bark. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," the Kuchiki noble answered simply, wondering if Ichigo planned to go back to sleep.

The captain yawned and idly covered his mouth with his free hand. "How did you know to look here?" he asked and then raked fingers through his hair in an attempt to awaken fully.

"I was told that I am not to give out that information," Byakuya answered, hearing Ayasegawa's cheerful voice in the back of his mind.

Ichigo opened his eyes, only to roll them in Byakuya's direction. "You? Keeping secrets? Should I watch for lightning strikes?"

Frowning, Byakuya tried to decipher the strange comment. Ichigo, noticing his confusion, simply waved him off.

" Never mind." With another yawn, he rose to his feet, reaching for Zangetsu and attaching the zanpakutou to his back once more. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Ayasegawa-fukutaichou was concerned about your disappearance," Byakuya fibbed just a little. He didn't have a real reason to look for Ichigo, not one that didn't sound suspicious anyway.

Ichigo arched one brow. "And you decided to play fetch?"

"He seemed busy; I did not."

He received another skeptical look that quickly melted away into confusion as Ichigo looked at the sky and then around. "What time is it?"

"Close to afternoon tea."

"Damn, I slept that long?" Ichigo pondered aloud, gazing pointedly around them. He fell into line beside Byakuya as the two of them unconsciously headed out of the recreation area and towards the main compound.

Beside the noble, Ichigo visibly stretched, muscles and bones cracking in protest of his strange and awkward sleep position. Byakuya, purposefully not watching, steered into another subject.

"I spoke with Rukia."

Ichigo stiffened for all of a moment before letting out a breath. "And?"

He considered his words carefully. "I have assured her that I will not abandon her, no matter what the Kuchiki say."

A faint smile curled Ichigo's lips. "Good," he said with a firm nod. "Nothing else?"

Rukia's voice repeated in Byakuya's mind, including her implications about his feelings and Ichigo's. He thought about Zaraki's own accusations. He remembered his own strange behaviors. Sneaking a glance at the other captain, he wondered if anything she had to say had any merit.

Even if it did, he wasn't going to say so aloud.

Byakuya shook his head, returning his attention back to the path in front of him. "Nothing of importance," he told Ichigo, fibbing for the sake of a little white lie. "Nothing at all."

* * *

 


	15. Of Understanding

Weeks passed, crawling by with the same sluggish uncertainty as the time spent waiting for Aizen to make his first move, all those decades ago. Life continued as it had. New Shinigami graduated from the Academy and were sifted into the ranks. The problems with strange and dangerous Hollow continued, though the sightings continued to be infrequent and rarely were they deadly. Akon still refused to choose a vice-captain, despite repeated urgings by the old man.

Syaoran stopped asking when her mother would return after the first month of repeated weekend visits and pained "I don't knows" from her father. Kaien still asked, more to keep up what had become a habit than any expectation for his father's answer to change. Ichigo lived as though on automatic. He took care of the children. He retained control over the fifth division. He trained new Shinigami. He still had lunches with Byakuya on occasion, met Shunsui and Kenpachi for drinks, and forcefully ignored attempts to discuss his situation.

The fervor died down, becoming nothing more than a constant rumor through the ranks. Rukia leaving and taking up residence in her own quarters had inspired a brief flurry of activity once the news emerged. But it, too, eventually reached its peak and flattened. Everyone settled back into their own daily rituals and paths, leaving the broken couple to tend to their own wounds.

Crawling into his cold and empty bed for the nth time in how many weeks, Ichigo was struck with the realization that he couldn't live like this. It wasn't like him to simply wait around for something to happen. Rukia still lingered in her own decision, and it wasn't healthy, not for either of them. They weren't together now; they obviously weren't trying to figure anything out. And the children were suffering, waiting around for a mother who might or might not return.

Byakuya's words. Shunsui's words. His family's words. Idle comments that his friends had made in passing without directly trying to give advice. It all flurried through his mind, the same litany of recommendations that he had brewed over. Divorce rang out the loudest and the most painful. They were already separated Shunsui's voice reminded him in not so many words. It was the final step.

He lingered for a long time on that last choice, letting the word sit in front of him, staring him in the eyes. In a way, he felt it was like giving up. But another part of him felt like it would be finally moving on from the stagnant pool of emotion he had been wading through. He realized he was clinging to indecision because he didn't want to regret anything. He didn't want the added pain of willingly letting her go.

In the end, he considered what was best for the children and left it at that. Shunsui was right in that respect. They didn't need to witness any more violence. And Ichigo certainly didn't want to spend the rest of his life tiptoeing around his wife on the off chance that he would inadvertently provoke her into anything. No matter how much he loved her, things simply couldn't continue the way they had. Not anymore.

He made his choice quietly, sharing the decision with no one else. Waking early the next morning, he sent Rukia a message with a meeting time and place. She responded not soon after with an affirmative, no questions asked. He had the feeling that she already knew the purpose behind it.

Ichigo went into his division for half a day and played normalcy. He counseled a new recruit, signed stacks of papers, and ate lunch with his vice-captain. Yumichika was unusually quiet, as if already guessing that his captain's mind was preoccupied.

He worked for another hour after lunch and then left for the day, heading home. Looking at the handful that was his four children, he decided it was better to leave the twins with Tohru and take the older two to Byakuya. The Kuchiki noble had already agreed to take them for the rest of the day.

Perhaps it was his fault. He was distracted, mind already running over what he planned to tell Rukia. Practicing several different ways to say it and all of them coming out wrong, coming out far too painful.

When Kaien asked him where he was going, he answered honestly and without thinking. His son immediately asked to come along, and Ichigo couldn't allow that. It was understandable considering it had been two weeks since he had last seen his mother longer than a few minutes spent at the thirteenth division. Anger and sadness flashed through his son's eyes, thus beginning a first-class sulk which Ichigo really had no patience for at the moment.

He bundled up both Syaoran and Kaien, the former chattering happily in his ear as he hitched her on one hip. Almost as if she were trying to make up for her brother's unhappy silence. Nodding and answering where appropriate, Ichigo took them the short distance through the residential district until they reached the Kuchiki mansion.

He wasn't surprised to find Byakuya answering the door before he could so much as knock, the other man probably sensing their arriving reiatsu.

"Byakuya-oji-san!" Syaoran exclaimed happily and darted in to throw her arms around her uncle's legs, looking decidedly more happy than she had recently.

Byakuya couldn't help but wonder how much of it was fake.

"Hime," he murmured, affectionately patting her head. "I just saw you yesterday."

She looked up at him, all smiles and sparkly eyes. "I know. But we haven't been _here_ in awhile."

The child did have a point, something that Byakuya conceded inwardly. He had been spending most of his time at Ichigo's home rather than having the children come to his.

In the doorway, Ichigo chuckled at his daughter's behavior and prodded his oldest inside. "I told Tohru to take the twins," he explained as Kaien stepped in ahead of his father, looking rather surly at that. "That way you wouldn't have too much on your hands."

"It wouldn't have been any trouble," Byakuya assured his brother-in-law as he closed the door behind them and gently dislodged Syaoran from his leg.

Ichigo shrugged, poking Kaien in the shoulder to get him to keep moving. The boy was being rather stubborn, prompting Byakuya to give him a confused look.

"I know that, but Kaien's already sulking. And that's enough."

Dark blue eyes, far too much like his mother's, fixed a glare on his father before promptly turning away.

Byakuya raised a brow. "So I see," he commented and then turned to Syaoran. "You're in a good mood, are you not, hime?"

She grinned up at him. "Of course I am. My birthday is coming soon."

A fact which had not escaped her father or her uncle. Less than a month in the future, which meant they would have to get to planning if they were going to have something ready in time to suit her expectations.

"A happy occasion," Byakuya agreed with a firm nod, though inwardly he still wondered at Kaien's behavior. Wanting to ask Ichigo, he conceived a plan to distract the children. "Yuzu-oba-san sent me some sweets from the Living World. They are in the kitchen. Why don't you ask Kuina to give you some?"

Syaoran's eyes brightened in interest, even Kaien daring to perk before wiping it away with a scowl that matched his fathers.

"Really?" And when Byakuya nodded, her smile brightened. "Okay," she agreed and headed down the hallway, her brother following at a more leisurely pace.

Byakuya found it ironic. Usually, it was Kaien who had bundles of barely contained energy and Syaoran who maintained her pride and dignity. What a strange reversal.

"Sacrificing your sweets for the sake of privacy?" Ichigo questioned as they headed out of earshot, the two adults remaining in the hallway near the door.

Patting down his robes, which lacked any visible wrinkles as always, Byakuya pretended innocence. "I don't know what you are referring to."

Ichigo snorted and shook his head. "Work your Kuchiki glamour on someone else, Byakuya. It doesn't work on me."

"A pity." He paused and allowed the teasing edge fade away into something more serious. "What is wrong with Kaien?"

"He found out what I'm doing," Ichigo answered after a moment, the joking tone disappearing from his expression.

Which was a miracle since not even Byakuya knew what Ichigo's current plans were. Ichigo had only asked that he look after the children for a few hours, something that Byakuya was always glad to do.

"And that would be?"

Ichigo hesitated, his eyes glancing everywhere but at Byakuya, even going so far as to examine the polished floors. Just like Kaien when he was trying to hide something he had done.

"I'm going to talk to Rukia," he answered finally. "And I told Kaien he couldn't come, which is why he's sulking."

Byakuya absorbed this information, unable to keep the faint frown from pulling at his lips.

"Alone?" he tentatively questioned, his concern overriding his sense of courtesy. Ichigo never cared for such things anyway.

No wavering this time. "Yes."

Byakuya hesitated and then drove forward. "Ichigo, are you sure that's wise?"

"Yes," Ichigo said firmly, repeating himself. "I don't need supervision. If I'm going to tell my wife that I'm considering divorce, it will be without some babysitter in the room."

Byakuya was surprised by the determination in his tone but not as surprised by the hints of regret and sadness. It was clearly a decision that Ichigo had spent many long nights on, and judging by the dark circles and fatigue in his shoulders, most of them were recent. He was even more surprised by Ichigo's declaration itself. His friend had never even mentioned that he was considering divorce.

He took a deep breath and inclined his head. "I understand," he answered quietly, choosing to no longer press the point.

Ichigo was an adult and captain-class at that. He couldn't physically be hurt. That was how Byakuya reassured himself.

Ichigo paused and looked at him, the frustration once lacing his tone now vanished. "It's fine. I'm not angry," he said, though Byakuya had made no insinuations into believing that Ichigo was upset with him.

That damn understanding between them. It echoed of Zaraki, and Byakuya suddenly wanted to strangle the man again.

Ichigo's eyes caught sight of a clock. He muttered a low curse, dragging his attention to the Kuchiki heir.

"I've got to get going. I'll come pick them up about... five?" he hazarded a guess, assuming that their conversation wouldn't take any longer than an hour.

However, Byakuya shook his head. "Just head home. Get some rest. I'll keep them for the night."

"They don't have any of their stuff though," Ichigo said, not sure if he was willing to spring the children on Byakuya for so long without prior notification. Hadn't he impeded on Byakuya's good nature long enough?

The look the other captain gave him was firm. "It's not as if they don't leave enough of it here," Byakuya said in his take-no-nonsense, captain-authority tone. "You can also have Tohru bring the twins here later."

Realizing that Byakuya was not to be dissuaded, Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. He really wasn't looking forward to fielding questions after talking to Rukia, nor did he want to try and explain what was going to be happening soon.

"Fine," he agreed, well aware that he was already tensing over the meeting to come. His usual stubborn behavior didn't even last beyond a few sentences.

"I'll bring them over tomorrow," Byakuya continued, heading to the door and opening it again, wondering why he even bothered to close it. "Before I head into the office."

Ichigo nodded absentmindedly. "That'll work," he answered, the sense of relief washing through him countering the anxiety knotting up his shoulders. "Thanks."

"None needed."

He nodded again and stepped to the door, only to pause in the threshold. He hesitated, turning to look back at Byakuya. A strange realization trickling in through everything else.

He heard his wife's voice, telling him that there was something. And he wondered when he started being certain of the other man's presence. When he stopped worrying about everyone else because the only opinion that seemed to matter to him was Byakuya's. Or how he seemed to know that no matter what happened, he would turn around and Byakuya would always be there, right behind him. Or when looking into those grey eyes, always made him feel better, warmer and less stressed.

Somewhere, somehow, he had started depending on Byakuya, started relying on his presence. And it didn't bother him to realize this because it had been there all along. Byakuya was his best friend, but it was more, too. It was something.

Maybe it was what Rukia had pointed out. Maybe that something was what she meant all along. And while Ichigo had never actually done anything with Byakuya, his subconscious had apparently decided to take its own path and make more.

He wondered how long it had been this way. And then, he wondered what he was supposed to do about it. Maybe nothing. Like they had all along.

' _But there's something_ ,' Rukia had said to him.

What that something was he wasn't sure.

But a part of him knew that he was glad to have Byakuya with him. That he looked forward to every moment spent with the man. That it was simply natural and there, always when he looked and even when he didn't. Sometimes, he didn't have to because he knew the Kuchiki heir would be right there to help him.

The realization didn't come to Ichigo like a lightning bolt or a sudden understanding. It didn't hit him all the sudden, leaving him swirling in the wake of shock and confusion. It just slowly filtered in until he had no choice but to accept it.

Somewhere along the way he had fallen into something with Byakuya. And just like his usual Kurosaki ways, it chose the worst time to stand up and force him to take notice.

"Ichigo?"

The captain blinked and looked at his best friend in a sudden new light.

Concern was in grey eyes.

Ichigo shook his head. "No, it's nothing," he responded, raking a hand through his hair as his mental equilibrium did a very unsteady shift into awkward territory. "I'll see you tomorrow," he tossed over his shoulder as he stepped onto the walk.

He knew that Byakuya wasn't assured by his reply but accepted it nonetheless.

Ignoring the eyes he knew were following his departure, Ichigo quickly flitted into shunpo heading for the location that he and Rukia had agreed on. He specifically pushed away all thoughts of his recent understanding from his mind. It had no place in the conversation he was about to take part in.

He couldn't afford to be thinking of Byakuya at the moment, especially not when he was bringing up the suggestion of divorce to his current wife. It seemed… _wrong_ for lack of a better word. He would look at the realization later, dissect it, add rationale, figure out where the hell his common sense had gone.

But for now... now, he needed to be calm before his emotions tore him apart. Otherwise, he wouldn't survive unscathed.

Decision firmly entrenched, Ichigo put another burst of speed in his step and headed for Rukongai.

They were meeting on neutral ground, in a small tea shop in one of the higher districts. It was rarely visited by any Shinigami they might know. And with the abandonment of their usual Shinigami garb, few would be able to recognize them. Even with Ichigo's visible and highly noticeable hair.

The waitress ushered Ichigo to a table near a window where Rukia was already waiting, hands folded in her lap as she stared out through the opening. A light breeze was coming in, warm but cooled by the shadows, which ruffled at her hair. It only served to outline just how very tired she was.

Ichigo wondered if he looked the same. Wan, pale, drawn out. Dark circles lining her eyes and something pained pulling at the corner of her lips. Clothes neatly pressed and clean, if only to hide the sorry state of the rest of her body.

Yet, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Rukia looked up as the waitress led him to the table, and he lowered himself down across from her. He accepted the menu with a smile, not that he would be ordering, and put it aside. After asking for a cup of green tea, the waitress whisked away and left the couple alone.

Silence reigned as they looked at each other, finally alone together for the first time in weeks. Or months, to be more honest. At least three. It was such a short time for a Shinigami, though it seemed to stretch ages for Ichigo.

"I was surprised you asked me to come."

Ichigo frowned. "Surprised?"

"Yes," she admitted and then looked around pointedly. "Where's nii-sama?" It was enough proof that she was aware of their usual _chaperone_.

"Not here," Ichigo answered, shaking his head. "He doesn't need to be. No one does. This is between you and me."

"Oh." A moment before understanding dawned in her face, mixed with a hefty dose of resignation. She had a good idea of what he had come there for. "I see."

He looked at her, and it was all the reminder he needed of how much he missed her. But he also knew that he simply couldn't keep hanging on to nothing. If she wouldn't decide then he would for the sake of their children and his own anxious heart if nothing else.

He met her eyes evenly, forcing a bravery he didn't feel. "I can't do this anymore," Ichigo said softly and pretended not to notice that she was wringing her hands in her lap. "I can't keep waiting."

She was quiet for a moment, long enough for the waitress to bring their tea and leave again before she responded.

"I wondered," Rukia began, her own gaze unable to keep his. "I wondered how long it would take."

Ichigo remained silent, letting her speak her peace. He couldn't swallow past the lump in his throat and wrapped fingers around the cup he had no intention of drinking. The warmth crept through the white porcelain and into his fingers, warming skin that felt a bit too cold for the warm weather.

"I know you wanted me to decide, but I couldn't," Rukia explained, the words coming out slowly and hesitantly. "I wasn't ready."

"What makes you think I am?" he demanded a bit more sharply than he intended and fought to quiet his tone. Somehow, her answers were only making him angry, or maybe it was just the hurt, lashing out and seeking some sort of reprieve. "Can you even guess how it feels to constantly tell our children 'I don't know' because you won't tell me either?"

She flinched. And he felt justified in it in some small fashion.

"I'll explain it to them."

"That doesn't make it better."

"I know," Rukia answered rather loudly herself.

For a moment he was surprised by it. The cowed individual he saw in front of him sometimes didn't resemble his wife, but then, there it was. That steel he knew so well.

She squared her shoulders and drew up straight, finding the courage somewhere within her. A part of him was glad to see it. "I know it doesn't, but it's all I can offer you, Ichigo. I was the one who left, who made the mistakes."

He worked his jaw. "I don't know how to fix it," Ichigo responded, watching her closely, feeling something inside of him crack. "Kami knows I tried. But I don't know how to fix... us. Not anymore."

Her fingers tangled together, completely ignoring the steaming cup in front of her. "I don't know that there's a way." She looked up at him, eyes taking on a pained sheen. "I hurt you. I can't just take that back."

Ichigo knew in that moment that she wasn't even going to fight it, fight him for what they had. Despite her inability to make a decision, she had already resigned herself to the truth, to the facts. She was prepared to let him go, and it hurt more than he knew how to handle. Like the last grip on his restraint finally slipped free, leaving him to slide off the edge.

His fingers tightened around the cup. "No, you can't," he said, voice thick.

It was his turn to slide his eyes away, staring out the window where people were passing by, so happy in their lives. Smiling and laughing. Parents and their children. A life that he used to have as well.

It was a testament to the passing time that he was willing to admit she had hurt him, and Rukia knew it as well as he did.

He took a deep breath. "You don't have to do anything, but sign the papers," Ichigo explained, knowing that full disclosure wasn't necessary. Rukia understood what was coming as much as he did. "I'll get them approved and drawn up."

He caught the emotions flickering across her face, a mixture of resignation and pain, the last remnants of wanting to cling to their old life. Though she put on the front of strength, that she was ready to accept whatever Ichigo decided, it was clear that Rukia couldn't simply walk away without looking back. She still wanted him, and Ichigo couldn't decide if that hurt more to know or eased the pain.

"You're that prepared to be rid of me?"

"Rukia." He was aware that she was only expressing her own hurt, but it was still painful to hear her say it so plainly. As if he hadn't spent hours and nights lying awake, thinking about their marriage and their life together. "That's unfair."

She sighed and finally reached for her cup. He took no pride in seeing the slow fading of the white on her knuckles or the ever-deepening lines in her face. She was too young to be appearing this aged, and he wondered if the same stress showed on his face.

"I know. It isn't even really my right to be so bitter either, is it?"

He didn't know how to answer that question, not sure what his wife was implying. The waitress chose that moment to wander by, politely asking if they would like a refill of their drinks. She was dismissed with equal courtesy. Honestly, neither Kurosaki had really touched their tea. It was simply there in front of them, a mask to hide the true reason behind their meeting.

Once the woman was gone, Rukia broke the uneasiness between them with the next question that Ichigo himself had been hesitant to bring up. "And the children?"

He froze for a moment, words failing him. He knew the topic would come up but hadn't been able to come to terms with it himself. He knew in most cases the mother was usually granted custody, but he also knew that he couldn't stand to be apart from his children. They were his life.

"I..."

"It's fine," Rukia interrupted before he could so much as stutter. "The current arrangements seem to be satisfactory." Yet, she couldn't completely hide the regret from her tone. She played at sounding fine with it, but inside, she was breaking.

He shook his head. "It is not enough for them," Ichigo insisted as he thought of Kaien's sulking and Syaoran's increased attempts at proving to be just fine, to be happy even though she cried herself to sleep many nights. "Especially for the twins. They've barely gotten to know you." And if things continued, they would never even know her. Ichigo didn't want that for his children.

The admission could not have been easy. Ichigo could only blink in surprise, watching his wife in stunned disbelief.

She exhaled deeply, unable to keep his gaze. "After all, I'm the one who abandoned them first. I don't have the right to be called their mother."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Regardless of what anyone says, you will always be their mother," he stated firmly, unwilling to argue on that point. "I wouldn't dare try to take that from you."

"Thank you." Her voice cracked, betraying the emotion she had been trying so desperately to hold back.

The both of them were pretending here, discussing their future like mature adults, feigning a lack of hurt for every word and choice. Ichigo wondered which of them would break first or if it even mattered. The hot burning behind his eyelids, threatening to make a fool of him certainly thought different.

"I do love them," Rukia added quietly. "And it pains me to be apart from them. But my division will be starting our extra patrols soon, and I have to lead many of them. I may not be able to see the children as often as I'd like."

"Whatever time you can manage will be all they ask for," Ichigo assured her, trying to ignore the niggle of worry worming its way inside of him. He knew what patrols Rukia meant, remembered their discussion at the captain's meeting a month prior.

His wife was strong and very capable, but he couldn't help his worry. Strange and new Hollows stank of Aizen and his experiments. It meant they couldn't be certain of anything, including assessed strength and abilities. It meant she had to be extra careful.

Rukia inclined her head, fingers rubbing at the elegant detail on the outside of her cup. "How are they?"

Ichigo hesitated at the seemingly simple question. He knew that if he answered her outright, the truth would hurt, bring her even more pain than she was already suffering. And she was already bearing most of the burden of their separation. He couldn't do that to her.

"The twins are maturing more and more each day," he answered, edging away from the query. "Kaien is still quite determined to enter the Academy, pestering Ikkaku even more than usual for training. And Syaoran's becoming more of a mini-Byakuya every time I turn around."

Her lips curl into a small smile, a light chuckle escaping from her lips. "Sometimes, I wonder if they are our children or Soul Society's."

Ichigo's fingers tangled together, one finding the gold band and smoothing over the inscribed metal. "They'll always be _our_ children."

A heavy silence fell between them.

Rukia took a great breath. "Ichigo… I know that words are useless in the long run, but I feel like I should apologize. For everything."

Her shoulders hunched as she curled both hands around the cup, absorbing what little warmth remained within it. "You didn't deserve to bear the brunt of my frustrations. And I wish I had never made that mistake."

Ichigo was left speechless, watching his normally proud wife apologize to him. Admitting her own mistakes. He never expected an apology, hadn't been waiting for one. And yet, here she was, freely giving the words.

Truthfully, he had forgiven her long ago.

He closed his eyes and forcefully pushed away the worming thought that he was making a mistake. "Thank you," he responded simply and uncurled his fingers from his untouched tea.

Ichigo rose to his feet, dropping some money on the table to pay for their drinks. He felt her eyes lift towards him, such a beautiful blue.

One truth deserved another, as did one apology.

He paused next to the table. His fingers lingered on the polished wood, though his eyes found the exit, cloth hanging in front of the door to block the warm air. "I think that I'm beginning to understand what you meant," Ichigo murmured and then dragged his gaze back towards her. "About me and your brother. For what it's worth, I never wanted it to be this way."

"What a coincidence." A faint smile, dry and cracked around the edges. "Neither did I."

With nothing left to say, Ichigo knew he needed to leave before he broke down in public. But he hesitated, lingering by the table, wishing he had more words. His fingers fell away from the top, and then, he was gone. He left his wife behind in a cafe somewhere in Rukongai. Ichigo knew that it was more than that though, that there was more still sitting in that seat than just the woman he loved.

Forty years were there. Time spent together. A life they had worked hard to build. There were battles fought side by side and embarrassing moments of awkwardness into new love. There was still love, though it remained on opposite sides of an uncrossable chasm.

He wasn't sure what he felt as he left the coffee shop, stepping out into the warm and humid sunlight. He felt numb, emotionally drained, even empty. He wasn't happy at the outcome, nor relieved. He didn't feel accomplished for finally gaining the ability to move on. In fact, part of him wanted to return to the stagnancy, simply because it meant he still had the choice to make.

Ichigo also knew that there was no turning back. He had made his decision, and there was nothing left but to sign the papers.

Raking a hand through his hair and biting down on a frustrated sigh, Ichigo longed for a fight. Something simple, something easy to understand. Where the enemy was clearly defined and all he had to do was win. Where he could jump in recklessly and rely on his damned Kurosaki luck to come out victorious.

What he wouldn't give for a sudden ryoka invasion.

* * *

 


	16. Confrontations (Part One)

Another month came and passed, moving with the same tedious pace as the one before it. Life continued as it had before, leaving Ichigo little room to breathe and even less room to think. Less time to adapt and change, to accept the decisions he had already made and confirmed. Papers, important documents, sat on his desk, gathering dust as they impatiently waited his signature.

He saw them every day. He held a brush in his hand and contemplated the number of strokes it would take to pen his name. He considered his reasons why. And then, he would get distracted. One of the twins would cry. Someone was hungry. There was an emergency at the division. He was late for a meeting.

In the end, they were merely excuses and even he knew it. But that didn't get the papers signed any faster. If it were any other situation, a battle or something similar, he could make a split-second choice and stick by it. He could jump in, swing his zanpakutou, and defeat his opponent by sheer will alone. He wouldn't regret the outcome. But this... this wasn't so simple, and Ichigo was fully aware of that point.

It was frustrating that he couldn't make this simple decision, even if he had in effect already made the choice. The papers were there in front of him, all he had to do was sign. And yet, he lingered. He ignored them. He found excuse after excuse.

Maybe it was a trace of bitterness. A part of him had hoped to the sorrowful end that Rukia would protest to the divorce in some small way. That she would _fight_ for their marriage and for their love. And when she hadn't, it had hurt even more. As if she was saying that the years they spent together didn't matter. That had hurt far worse than any of the violence he had suffered at her hand. He just wanted to believe that she still loved him, that there was something to save.

That damn Kurosaki stubbornness. That defeat didn't exist and he could claim victory by sheer stubborn will.

It was that frustration with both himself and the rest of Seireitei that encouraged Ichigo to seek an outlet of some kind. Leaving Yumichika in control of the division, something he found himself doing more and more lately and subsequently feeling guilty for it, he fled the understanding gazes of his subordinates in search of a little aggression. There was plenty to be found in other Shinigami, but he wanted something of a challenge, and he didn't want to end up a bloodied, barely breathing mess. Which left out Kenpachi and by proxy anyone in the eleventh division that brought him anywhere close to the eyepatch-wearing psychopath.

Turning on his heel, Ichigo headed towards the seventh division. Renji was always up for a bit of sparring, especially now that he needed something to distract himself from his anxiety. Orihime was getting closer and closer to the end of her pregnancy, prompting a worry fest in her husband that put Hanatarou to shame. Not that Renji was normally composed and completely in control of himself. But still, Ichigo had the feeling that the sight of the tattooed man on the day of the birth was not going to be pretty. A vision of tranquilizers and hysterics danced on the back of his mind.

Therefore, Renji was the perfect choice. Besides, he also knew the location of Urahara's still somehow secret training grounds. This way, they wouldn't have any unwanted onlookers.

He opted not to shunpo, wanting to save his energy for the spar to come. He could already feel the anticipation trickling in his bones and sinew, Ossan and Shirosaki stirring in the back of his skull. It had been too long since he had done anything remotely battle-like, and it was beginning to show. Maybe Kenpachi was right; perhaps he was getting soft.

Ichigo snorted.

The day he actually listened to Zaraki Kenpachi was the day he turned in his haori and became crazy Kanonji's apprentice. And that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

He passed by the sixth division and thought briefly of stopping by to visit Byakuya. It was just as quickly dismissed when he remembered that they had maneuvers out on the practice field this afternoon. The Kuchiki heir wouldn't even be in the office. Not that it was a good idea to talk to Byakuya in his current state of agitation. He would just snap at the man again, and while Byakuya never appeared affronted, Ichigo would feel guilty anyway.

"And he's _still_ married to her?"

The querying whisper, likely meant to be furtive but failing miserably, floated to Ichigo's conscious. His ears twitched, and he slowed his walk, a knot of something beginning to wind its way in his belly. Ahead of him, three Shinigami were speaking to each other in a side corridor, looking as if they had paused in the midst of their duties. One woman clutched paperwork to her chest, while the two men carried a stack of bokken. From the distance, Ichigo couldn't tell which division they belonged to.

One male, a brunet with a weird scar, cocked his head to the side. "That's what Yobun-kun told me. And he heard it from Ootori, who heard it from Yagami-chan's brother," he answered in an equally not-stealthy manner. "Still married. And probably will stay that way." He shook his head and made a dismissive sound.

They were in broad daylight in the middle of the road. If they expected no one to overhear them, then they were either stupid or didn't actually care. Eyes narrowing of their own accord, Ichigo drew his reiatsu tighter about himself, a sense of masochistic curiosity attacking him.

Ichigo knew without having to ask what they were discussing. He wasn't unaware of the rumors, but to their actual material, he had no interest. He hadn't tried to find out, knowing that it was all false anyway. And knowing that it would make him angry regardless. He didn't understand why he suddenly had the burning desire to learn.

The other man, looking just a bit younger with his wide green eyes, scoffed. "He needs to go on and dump that bitch. Kurosaki-taichou shouldn't have to put up with that."

"Yeah." The response was followed by an all too eager nod of agreement from the female and then disgust laced the loud whisper. "I heard that the twins aren't Kurosaki-taichou's. But that she was… _you know_ … with someone else." The woman made a vague motion with her hand.

The coiling in Ichigo's belly turned into a burn, a fire that made his hands clench at his sides. His reiatsu snapped at his restraint, fighting to be free, and he barely denied the request.

One pair of male eyes rounded, almost eagerly. "Oh, yeah? Who?" the younger of the two males asked as he shifted the bokken in his arms.

The brunet shrugged nonchalantly. "Not sure. And Yobun-kun didn't know either. Could be just about anyone knowing her." His face pulled into a grimace.

His female companion added, "She's already whored herself out to the Kuchiki. Doesn't surprise me a bit."

"True enough," the older man replied, shifting his weight to his other foot. "Still, I think it was Seiran-fukutaichou. He's got those same eyes. And he was in the thirteenth during the war. Fifth-seat or something."

Steadily burning, the anger grew into full force, and Ichigo found himself moving before he entirely realized what he was doing. It was more than Ichigo was willing to hear. Superficial resemblance or not, Seiran _was_ dark-haired and teal-eyed, Ichigo knew that Rukia hadn't been seeing someone else behind his back. No matter what anyone said, she wouldn't do that to him.

The female gasped. "Seiran-fukutaichou? From the second? Really? It would make so much sense." She sighed in an almost dreamy fashion. "And he's so handsome, too."

"Not hardly," older man was scoffing as he rolled his eyes. "Just you who thinks that."

The other male snorted. "Apparently, so does that Kurosaki bitch." He corrected with a falsetto tone, "Oh, excuse me. _Kurosaki-fukutaichou_. Wonder what she had to do to get that pos--"

His words abruptly cut off as he noticed the simmering reiatsu of the captain standing just behind his two companions, face a mask of fury. It was surging from Ichigo in paralyzing waves, though he couldn't do much but glare at them, the anger rendering him temporarily speechless.

"K-Kurosaki-taichou..." the woman stuttered, barely able to turn and stare with wide eyes. A white-knuckled grip clutched to the papers in her hand.

Ichigo clenched his teeth, fighting the fierce scream building in his throat. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood that only trickled down his throat in a slithering manner. Somewhere inside of him, Shirosaki stirred and awakened fully under the pull of his reiatsu. And Ichigo knew without a doubt that his eyes had taken on a distinctly golden hue.

Somehow, he managed a smile. But it was a fierce and cruel thing. An Aizen-smile. One given just as he plunged in the sword or set the world on fire.

"T-tai... chou?" one of the men managed to gasp as he sank to his knees. "Ple... ase... tai... chou. Can't…"

His friend beside him was already on the ground, head having impacted with the street without Ichigo noticing. He was miraculously still conscious, still _alive_ , but it was debatable how long that would last. Especially as the lone woman was in her not-so-slow descent to join him, now on her hands and knees. Papers scattered everywhere.

Inside him, Shirosaki just laughed.

And like Kyouka Suigetsu sheathed, the spell was broken. Ichigo snapped back to himself and pulled in as much reiatsu as he could, trying his hardest not to see the scorch marks on the nearby walls.

He tilted his head then, staring down at them dispassionately. "If you've got something to say about my wife, I suggest you say it to me." He paused waiting for a response, but none of them were in any shape to answer. "No?" he allowed after a moment. "Then, keep your damn mouths shut."

With that he turned and stepped away, stopping a few heartbeats later.

"I suggest," Ichigo added in a cold tone, one that would have done Byakuya proud, "that you be very careful what you say in the future. You never who might be listening."

The faint gasp of relief behind him might have been a noise of assent, but he didn't spare them another glance, already stalking away. He knew that it was irrational to take out his anger over rumors on just a few who were spreading them, but he couldn't stand there and listen to them say such things anymore. Especially since they regarded Rukia.

Eyebrows twitching, Ichigo altered his course. He couldn't spar with Renji now, not to just blow some steam. He was far too angry and would likely end up hurting the other captain. Either that or Shirosaki might want to play, and he was just a tad too furious to put up an effort to stop him. Nor could he go home, not with the way his reiatsu was swirling around him, fighting against his control.

He ended up at the sixth division, after all, sneaking in through a hidden entrance that Byakuya had shown him not too long ago. It had amused him, the refined and dignified Kuchiki noble needing an escape route from his division office. But he supposed that the Shinigami Women's Association was a scary thing indeed.

He ghosted through the hallways, easily avoiding any others, and managed to get into Byakuya's office completely unnoticed. Ichigo felt drained, tired and stretched to the breaking point, as he shut and locked the door behind him. His body was unbelievably heavy as he rested against the doorframe. But somehow, he managed to push himself up and shuffle over to Byakuya's desk, easing himself into the seat.

' _Better than sitting on the floor_ ,' Ichigo decided, knowing that Byakuya wouldn't care. It wasn't like he hadn't done this before.

He sat for a little while, head resting on one hand as he toyed with edge of his haori with his fingertips, noticing that he would probably need to get a new one soon; the dark blue lining was starting to come loose in several places. Ichigo huffed as he let go and made a sound the back of his throat, hunching over. His eyes strayed over the desktop and the unsigned papers resting just in front of him. Byakuya's stamp sat tantalizingly on the corner of the desk, just three feet away.

Ichigo frowned. It wasn't like he had anything else better to do now, and if paperwork was good for anything, it was making the mind go numb. Which was exactly what he needed. With the anger still a simmer inside of him, he needed the distraction.

Sighing, he reached for the stamp, snagging ink and a brush as well.

Some indeterminable amount of time later, Ichigo set the last page in the completed stack. His lips pulled into a scowl when he noticed that there was no more left for him to do, and a quick check of the desk drawers confirmed it. Though he did find a few other odds and ends. A stray bag of candy, probably a bribe for Yachiru. Some unopened and neatly-pressed envelopes on very expensive paper, most likely more marriage proposals. A well-perused copy of Othello, Byakuya's favorite. And a photograph of Ichigo's children with their father and uncle standing off to one side.

Ichigo paused and took the picture out to take a better look, noting that it had to be rather recent since the twins were in it. And he ran a thumb over each of their faces. Kaien and then Syaoran followed by Ryuu and Mikan. They all looked so happy. So carefree.

Ichigo just sighed and stared for several long minutes. He rubbed a tired hand over his face and closed his eyes.

Of course, someone chose that moment to forcefully knock on the door, disturbing him from the small measure of peace he had managed to acquire. Ichigo furrowed his brow but kept his silence. There wasn't supposed to be anyone in the office, after all. Especially since most of the division was gone.

"Ichigo-kun!" A voice called, or sang rather, to him through the door, sounding suspiciously like his vice-captain. "Open the door, please."

"We would hate to break it down," another voice chimed in far too cheerily and bearing some resemblance to Shunsui. "Byakuya-bo might get angry, and we _all_ know the consequences of that."

Ichigo very softly put the picture back and closed the drawer. With the speed of an old man, he stood and returned Byakuya's chair to its proper place, lips pulling into a frown. How had they known he was there? And why, for that matter, had they sought him out?

He wrenched the door open and was treated to their beaming faces, far too happy for his taste. Ichigo returned their sunny dispositions with a scowl.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded like they had invaded his bedroom and not Byakuya's office. Was it really so late?

Yumichika practically sparkled at him, making Ichigo's suspicions rise even higher. "We're taking you out, of course," he answered and reached forward to loop one arm around his captain and tug him towards the door. "You've been cooping yourself up too much."

One eye twitched in a gesture very reminiscent of Toushirou. "How did you know I was here?"

A knowing, almost accusing look, glinted in brown eyes as Shunsui chuckled. "A little butterfly informed us, also mentioning that you had become a bit of a social outcast. What could we do but oblige his highness?"

His attention swiveled to the older captain, having the sneaky suspicion he knew the identity of their little butterfly. "Shouldn't you be annoying Jyuushiro or something?" Ichigo asked and then winced inwardly. He was about as prickly as a grumpy Yama-jii at the moment.

Shunsui didn't seem offended in the slightest, in fact taking his other arm in the same manner as Yumichika. "Jyuu-chan wanted some alone time with little Izuru," he responded cheerily as he and Ichigo's traitorous vice-captain began directing the younger man towards the door. "And I was all too happy to oblige."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Ichigo mumbled, knowing far better than to put up any sort of protest. He had been neglecting his friends as of late, Byakuya notwithstanding.

"Now, don't sound like that Ichigo," Shunsui chided, far too cheerfully. "It's not like we're kidnapping you or anything."

A skeptical look was turned on the eighth-division captain, Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "That's _exactly_ what you're doing," he retorted.

"And yet, not an ounce of resistance from you, taichou," Yumichika twittered, sounding far too pleased with himself. "You need this, I know."

Ichigo had long learned that arguing with his vice-captain was pointless. When Yumichika set his mind on something, come Aizen-attack or Seireitei-invasion, he was going to get it. Which explained the frilly touches to his office and the fancy stamp that he had to use on all his important documents. Ichigo was certain that there more changes his vice-captain had effected, but a part of him didn't want to know. So long as his division ran smoothly and no one was dissatisfied, he was content to let Yumichika do as he wished.

Even so, he felt he had to protest, because he was a captain and a father both; Ichigo had responsibilities. "Yumichika, I promised Tohru that I would be home after work today. I can't leave my children alone."

Completely unfazed, Yumichika waved a hand. "Please, Ichigo-kun, when have I ever executed an incomplete plan? The children are already being taken care of. Nothing to worry about there."

No escape now.

Another sigh escaped him before he could stop it. "Where are we going?" he asked, wearily conceding to his fate.

Patting him on the arm, Yumichika finally eased his grip so that they weren't so close and stumbling along like a trio of drunken fools. "Where else?" he asked brightly.

Internally, he groaned. He had a pretty good idea. To the ninth district where the favorite bar of the higher seats of the eleventh division was located. He had the feeling that there were probably others waiting.

Yumichika and Shunsui chattered over him from then on, both men deftly steering him in the proper direction. Soon, they were passing through the gates and into Rukongai, the buildings shifting from cozy homes to establishments. Above them, the sky rapidly went from an endless blue to the ominous overcast of a pending thunderstorm. It was sheer luck that they arrived at the bar before the clouds burst, dropping buckets of water down on the unsuspecting masses.

He was immediately ushered inside, thrust ahead of Yumichika and Shunsui, and plunged into the dim interior of the building. A wet and humid air followed his entrance, the scent of rain strong. Ichigo gave himself a minute to adjust to the change in light before he started looking. But it turned out that a search wasn't necessary. His arrival had been immediately noticed.

"Yo, Ichigo!"

It became pretty obvious, at that point, that all chance for escape had come and gone. Perched at a large table and waving one large hand in the air to gesture them over, Ikkaku was cradling his very own sake jug. Scattered in various positions around him were Kenpachi and Nanao-san, oddly enough.

His two captors abandoned his side, taking up their seats at the table, Shunsui next to Nanao and Yumichika lowering himself _beautifully_ beside Ikkaku. With everyone looking up at him expectantly, Ichigo didn't even think to turn around and leave. Instead, he plopped down between his own vice-captain and Kenpachi. The safest position, he figured, and it had the added bonus of saving the eleventh division captain from his former fifth-seat.

The alcohol was already flowing rather steadily, and Ichigo accepted the bowl passed his direction.

"Been awhile since I've seen ya," Ikkaku commented with a waving hand, looking two steps from sprawling over the floor and perching in his usual fashion. A bald head glinted in the light.

Ichigo shot the third-seat a look. "I've been busy," he responded, taking a sip of the strong and clear sake that was poured into his bowl.

"Too busy to fight with me even." Kenpachi grunted, took a gulp of his sake, and then added, "Gettin' boring around here."

"I fail to see how that's a bad thing," Nanao inserted solidly, glasses glinting in the dim light of the bar. Ichigo wasn't quite sure how that was possible, but somehow, she managed it. "Excitement usually means danger of some kind."

Kenpachi waved a dismissing hand. "What good is a soldier without a war to fight in?" he countered and grinned ferally. "Peace ain't bad, but it's borin'."

"I don't know," Shunsui began with a shrug. "I'm kind of partial to it myself. It beats fighting those hordes of insane Hollow Aizen kept tossing at us."

His words had the unfortunate dampening effect of reminding everyone at the table of a battle forty or so years past. A moment was spent in recollection, silence descending, until it was finally broken by a relatively simple query.

"Where is Yachiru?" Nanao asked with a pointed look around the table.

It was a well-known fact that the small lieutenant often crashed their drinking parties, even if she was technically too young. There was little the establishment could do to kick her out, especially when Zaraki glared.

Ikkaku shrugged and snorted, looking far more interested in his alcohol. "Prolly off at Ukitake-taichou's, stalking Kira."

Nanao lifted one elegant brow, her captain guffawing beside her. "Pardon?" she encouraged, sheer effort keeping her from blinking in confusion.

Shaking his head, Kenpachi reached for a sake bottle, wanting to pour it himself rather than wait for someone else. "Girl's got a damn fool crush on a married man," he grunted. "I can't talk any sense into her."

"Honestly," Yumichika added with a prim sniff. "And with the two of them looking to adopt..."

"Looking? Hah." Shunsui chuckled, obliging Nanao by topping off her bowl before swirling his own alcohol and sipping at it. "They've already found. They're just waiting on the paperwork."

Nanao inclined her head. "Which, in Seireitei, could take weeks. If not months. Though Yamamoto-soutaichou is trying to _encourage_ it to move through the system faster."

Their conversation washed over Ichigo with him only catching bits and pieces. No one seemed to notice that he wasn't contributing, nor did they seem to care. Which was fine with him. He could think in peace with the lovely burn of alcohol in his belly.

He knew his limits and wasn't going to get anywhere near them. He didn't need another night like the disaster before his vacation. But it was nice to simply enjoy the flavors. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, being there with his friends discussing everything _but_ Ichigo's issues was encouraging.

"Akon-taichou has finally selected a fukutaichou, I hear," Nanao inserted and calmly sipped at her drink.

When they had switched to a new topic, Ichigo wasn't entirely sure. But he let their words swirl around him anyway.

"Oh?" Shunsui lifted an interested brow and patted her on the shoulder. "Nanao-chan, you have to tell me these things, or I don't know them."

She squared her shoulders. "It was in the paperwork I put on your desk, sir," Nanao replied with one of her famous reprimanding stares that Shunsui had long grown immune to.

"Eh heh..." Shunsui scratched his chin as he let out a slightly nervous laugh. "So... who is it?" The quick change of subject did not go unnoticed.

"Tsubokura Rin," Nanao answered and returned her attention to the others at the table.

In return, she received a series of confused blinking. The name wasn't ringing familiar to anyone present.

"Who?" Ikkaku asked, fingers rubbing over his head.

Beside him, Yumichika suddenly sparkled in remembrance. "Ah! That adorable little boy who is friends with Hanatarou-kun."

Kenpachi squinted his one eye in evident confusion. "I thought that was a girl," he responded. "Sure looks like one."

Drawing up straight, Yumichika shot his former captain a warning look that nearly mimicked the one Nanao had given Shunsui. "He is male, I assure you."

Shunsui shook his head. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Ikkaku thought fit to chime in. "I mean, take one look at yerself. How can _anyone_ tell these days?"

His jaw dropped for several seconds before Yumichika swelled up indignantly. "There is nothing wrong with being _beautiful_."

"Alright," Kenpachi interrupted, shaking his bowl for more sake and stopping the potential blustering outrage that his former subordinate was about to release. "Enough of that. The kid's a boy. We got it. Movin' on."

Huffing, Yumichika shot Ikkaku a glare and shifted to get comfortable. Shunsui, knowing full well what an irate Yumichika was capable of, hurriedly began a new conversation.

"I hear that Ki-kun's coming back for a visit," he declared cheerfully, cheeks reddening with a bit of a flush. "Isn't that right, Nanao-chan?"

Her brow twitched, and she reached up, adjusting her glasses with one pointed finger. "He _has_ sent word that he will be using a Seikaimon soon."

"Why?" Yumichika asked, interest stirring and prior grievance immediately flitting away. "I seem to remember him expressing no interest to return."

Shunsui tipped up his hat and looked to Nanao, something amusing flittering in his dark eyes. Seeming to sense whatever silent conversation was going between them, she returned the look with a glare.

"I suppose that you will have to ask him," she responded with a dismissive shrug.

The staring contest between captain and vice-captain continued, a faint blush beginning to creep into Nanao's cheeks at his insinuations.

"Well, it's about damn time," Kenpachi muttered, oblivious to their staring. He scratched one finger under the band of his eye patch; the damn thing itched all the time. "Seems ta me a lot of people need ta light a fire under their asses." That single glare turned towards Ichigo, but the fifth-division captain didn't even notice.

As one, everyone at the table turned their attention to Ichigo, but his gaze was turned inwards, thoughts completely in another world. He had long stopped listening to their conversation, only mindlessly drinking the sake as it was poured for him.

Until a hand stopped his bowl mid-way to his lips. Ichigo started and blinked in surprise, following the grip and connecting it to Ikkaku.

"So now ya notice that we're here, too," the bald man said, finally releasing the bowl and letting Ichigo finish his drink.

The younger man scowled. "It wasn't like I had a choice in coming here." He made a faint gesture towards the entire group. "Besides, I have more important things to think about than... who's sleeping with whom or which division has the softest toilet paper."

His words managed to effectively kill the mood. The table lost most of its joviality, which had seemed forced anyway. Frowning, at himself more than the others, Ichigo burrowed down into his corner of the table. He felt trapped by all the sympathy and pity suddenly radiating towards him.

"Forget it," he mumbled, knowing that they were just his friends and therefore concerned for him. "What were you talking about?"

Rather than pick up their prior conversation, however, Kenpachi thunked his jug on the table and pinned Ichigo down with a firm stare.

"Kami, I'm tired of this shit," he said after a moment, ignoring the widened eyes of the people around him. "All this avoidance shit. Just gonna talk about it anyway."

Nanao looked ready to cut in, but Shunsui put a hand on her arm, effectively silencing her. Yumichika put down his drink, face unreadable.

"Yeah," Ikkaku inserted and took another drink. "So what're ya gonna do?"

"Do?" Ichigo blinked. His insides squirmed, Shirosaki teasing the edge of his mind.

Kenpachi scratched under his eyepatch again. "Yeah. 'bout Rukia?"

Ichigo eyes swiveled to him, and he bit his lip.

Ikkaku rubbed his chin, slick fingers sneaking in and stealing the sake jug right from under his captain's nose. "Ya ever think that maybe ya just need to let her go?" he suggested and prepared to tip more into Ichigo's bowl.

Brown eyes narrowed. "Let go?" Ichigo repeated, anger curling around him like the enclosing folds of a blanket. It spiked into his reiatsu, making the table rattle.

The conversation he had overheard earlier returned to the forefront of his mind. And just like the words of those callous unseated Shinigami, Ichigo had never heard anything so ridiculous. The irritation boiled over within him, and before he knew it, his response was spilling from his lips in angered, punctuated bursts.

"If I had just let go back then, we wouldn't even be here now. If I had let go when Orihime was taken, we never would have gotten her back. If I had let go when Rukia was taken, she'd be dead. If I had let go during the war, then Aizen would be king. So don't fucking _talk_ about letting go."

Silence immediately followed his words.

Working his jaw, Ichigo thrust himself into his feet, minor step towards calm now effectively erased. "I'm going home," he muttered, and without another word, he left the bar.

Left behind, the stunned sort of silence reigned until Kenpachi slammed his hand onto the table. "Dammit, every fuckin' time, Ikkaku. Learn to shut yer mouth, you tactless moron."

"Yeah, nice one," Shunsui added.

"You utter fool." Yumichika sniffed, sliding away from his best friend as though worried he would be infected by the tactless stupidity. "So unbeautiful."

Rolling his eyes, Ikkaku snorted. "Look. I was just sayin' what all of you are thinkin'."

"That is no excuse," Nanao retorted with another adjustment of her glasses, her stare far more intimidating than the others being leveled his direction. "None at all."

"Whatever." He flicked his wrist in a dismissive wave. "Ichigo needed to hear it from someone. So pass the damn sake."

* * *

 


	17. Confrontations (Part Two)

"Ichigo-san should be home soon."

Byakuya didn't look up from where he was changing Mikan's diaper, the infant being of little help in the matter. "I would be surprised if he were," the Kuchiki noble answered, deftly ignoring his niece's squirming and fixing the pin in place with deft motions.

It had been his idea to send Ayasegawa and Kyouraku after Ichigo, knowing that the fifth-division captain had been spending most of his time either at home or in his division. It wasn't doing him any good to separate from his friends and Byakuya thought that a night out with _supervised_ drinking would do Ichigo a lot better than sitting at home and letting his thoughts run on circuits. Besides, it had been Ayasegawa's idea to begin with. He had only made subtle suggestions.

"You can leave if you need," Byakuya added, tugging Mikan's clothing back around her and lifting the infant onto his shoulder.

She squirmed and made noises with her mouth.

"I can handle it until Ichigo gets home."

Tohru inclined her head and treating him to a gentle smile. "If you insist, Byakuya-sama," she replied. "Kaien and Syaoran are still in the playroom. Good evening." With a shallow bow, she excused herself from the room.

Mikan waved a fist and giggled in her nanny's wake, as though saying goodbye herself. Byakuya looked at his niece, the energetic infant not looking like she was anywhere close to wanting sleep. Shaking his head, he gathered Mikan into his arms and carried her the short distance to the bed she shared with her brother.

Ryuunosuke was already asleep, face slack with the dreams of young ones. He didn't even twitch when his sister joined him, likely exhausted by the day's events, even if they hadn't been that strenuous. Sometimes, just dealing with Mikan's energy was exhausting. Byakuya entirely sympathized.

He tucked the infant in next to her twin and covered the both of them in the blanket. By the end of the night it would inevitably end up kicked to the end of the small crib, but it was the thought that counted, he supposed. Mikan burbled up at him and then rolled over, prodding her brother with one small fist. When Ryuu didn't stir, she decided she should sleep as well and yawned largely.

The innocence of children. If only all decisions were so easy.

Leaving the little ones to their rest, Byakuya grabbed the baby monitor – a gift from Yuzu if he recalled correctly, which had survived Syaoran and Kaien as infants – and left the room, flicking off the switch as he departed. No wailing sound of protest followed his exit, which he was glad to notice. Sometimes, the twins protested being left alone.

He padded down the hall, heading towards where he had left Syaoran and Kaien. The sound of rain floated to his ears, the patter of it striking the roof and the low rumbles of thunder in the distance. It appeared the soaking they had received earlier was not the extent of the storms heading their way.

The sound turned his thoughts towards Ichigo, prompting him to wonder if that was what it was like within his friend's inner world. The constant noise of rain striking the ground. The grumbling of the clouds and the gray clouds spreading forever above. He couldn't help but think of how fitting it was.

"It's _mine_."

" _No._ You took it from _me._ "

"I did _not_."

The sound of children arguing, though they were a good hall away, somehow found its way to Byakuya's ear with the perfect accuracy of one of Ishida-san's arrows. He quickened his pace and arrived at the door where he had left Ichigo's eldest offspring. Byakuya found the two of them glaring at each other, two steps away from a violent exchange of blows over some unidentified object. With all the other belongings spread about the room, it could have been any one of them.

His presence was immediately noticed.

"Byakuya-oji-san, she won't let me--"

"It was mine to begin with."

"No, it wasn't!"

He held up a hand, giving both children one of his patented glares. The one that he used on his subordinates in his division, clearly stating that if he heard one more word, punishment was in order. Immediately, both Kaien and Syaoran fell silent, though they were fidgeting with their desire to tell their own sides. Byakuya could pretty much guess what had happened, but it wasn't something he was interested in solving.

"Rather than argue, why don't you play a game with me?" he suggested and placed his hands on their upper backs, guiding them further into the room. "Something that will occupy all three of us."

Kaien scowled, just like his father, and folded his arms. "I'm not playing _Pretty Pretty Princess_ ," he announced, practically spitting each of the words.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a card or board game," Byakuya replied as he bit back an even sharper retort. He was not going to get into an argument with a child. "Didn't Yuzu-oba-san give you one for your birthday?"

Ever one to feel superior, Syaoran nodded obediently. "She did. I don't think he's even opened it yet." She tipped her head back in a move that Byakuya recognized; he hadn't even known she had picked it up. "He's more interested in playing with his sticks."

"Bokken," Kaien retorted, irritation beginning to well again. "They're called bokken, pest."

"Enough," Byakuya stated sharply, cutting off their potential argument with a firm look. Honestly, they hadn't been this bad until recently. "You're siblings. Not enemies."

Though they glared at each other, a sort of apology was mumbled, and Byakuya accepted it as the most he could get. As an only child, he didn't understand something like sibling rivalry. The best he could equate it to was lower seats in a division, fighting for the same position. But he wasn't quite sure what Kaien and Syaoran were squabbling over.

"Kaien, please get your game." He gently nudged the boy. "I'll set it up."

Cowed, his nephew nodded and scampered off. Sighing softly inwardly, Byakuya lowered himself to the floor in the middle of a rug. There would be ample room to play there. Syaoran immediately perched at his side.

Kaien returned less than a minute later, and Byakuya suspected he had been running through the house again. But he shook off the thought as he noticed that the rain above them had deepened into an all out storm. Flashes of light from beyond the window were plainly visible, and the low rumbles of thunder passed directly over the house. It was only a mild storm, so Byakuya wasn't concerned. He did keep the baby monitor close by, however, just in case the grumbles were loud enough to wake the twins.

Unwilling to hear more arguing, he handed out Kaien and Syaoran their own pieces and choose one for himself. In this manner, they passed the time. And before long, the two siblings were actually enjoying themselves, rather than arguing. Thank kami.

"I should have known."

Ichigo's voice disturbed their game, Byakuya looking up with some surprise. He hadn't even felt the other man arrive. Ichigo was standing in the doorway, clothes slightly damp from the lessening storm outside. The look on his face was a mixture of exasperation and faint irritation. One that was directed at an individual not present. Which probably meant that the trip to the bar had not gone as well as Byakuya had hoped.

More than the annoyance, however, was the fatigue that was prevalent. Dark circles ringed Ichigo's eyes and his shoulders carried a sense of weariness. His reiatsu, usually thrumming with the extent of his power, pulsed weakly. As if he hadn't slept decently in weeks. Which given the situation, Byakuya wouldn't completely disregard.

"Tou-chan!" Syaoran's happy chirp was the first to respond to Ichigo's statement, the little girl rising to her feet as he entered the room. She was immediately swept up into his arms and hugged him tight. Only to pull back and wrinkle her nose.

"You smell like smoke," she complained.

"I know," he responded, wrinkling his nose with her. "Shun-ojii-san forced me to hang out with him."

Idly listening, Byakuya gathered up the remnants of their game, which had been completely forgotten in their father's arrival. Nearby, Kaien rolled his eyes and stood slowly, looking up.

"Should have known what?" he asked, all innocence and nonchalance.

Shoving the last of the pieces in the box, Byakuya wasn't surprised to feel the famous Kurosaki scowl glowering his direction. "It's not proper to say in front of young ears," he nearly growled, though it carried a faint hint of teasing.

Ichigo switched Syaoran's weight around to his hip, his daughter surprisingly unwilling to be put down.

Kaien was dissatisfied with his father's answer; he crossed his arms and tried to imitate Ichigo. "You're late," he announced, his tone carrying a hint of reproach that made even Byakuya blink in surprise.

Lifting a brow, Ichigo stepped across the floor and placed a hand on Kaien's head. "Sorry," he murmured, tipping his head to the side as his fingers pressed against his son's damp hair. "You've bathed already?"

Byakuya sighed at the question as Kaien fidgeted, looking as though he were expecting to be punished. "Yes. He had the brilliant idea of playing in the rain. And dragging Syaoran out with him."

Brown eyes shifted to focus on his son, who dropped his hands to fidget with his obi. "I was inside all day," he mumbled, very close to whining. "I wanted to go outside."

"He really needs an outlet," Byakuya added and turned back towards the mess the three of them had made. He began to shift it all into piles that wouldn't be tripped over by an unlucky visitor, not that they had those in droves, before one of the housekeepers could clean. It was a distraction, he realized, something to keep him from looking too deeply at Ichigo and occupying his hands.

"Yeah, I know," the younger man responded, raking a hand through his hair in a tired motion. "I haven't exactly had the chance to look into it though."

At the mere suggestion, Kaien immediately piped up with his own idea. "I could go to a dojo," he hinted eagerly. "Jyuu-ojii-san said that he knows some good ones."

Though weary, Ichigo managed a smile for his son's enthusiasm. "We'll see. It depends on how well you behave yourself."

For a moment, Kaien looked as if he were going to argue, his gaze shifting between his father and his uncle. "I'm always behaved." He tapped his own chest demonstratively.

"Not one bit," Syaoran challenged in a lofty tone. Though her gaze was focused on her brother, she was clinging to Ichigo's shihakushou, her head on his shoulder.

Ichigo frowned and lifted a hand, palm pressed to her forehead. "You sound a little congested, sweetie," he remarked and ignored Kaien's retaliation by sticking out his tongue.

She did feel a bit warm to the touch. But then again, it was a bit humid. There was also the likelihood that she had just emerged from the bath not too long ago, if the faint ringlets of moisture were any indication.

Syaoran immediately squirmed. "I'm fine, tou-chan. You're just imagining things."

Disbelieving brown eyes looked her over once more. Syaoran had the tendency to be just like her uncle. She didn't like people fussing over her and oftentimes preferred to be left alone. A good night's rest in a warm bed was probably all she needed. Ichigo knew from experience that children tended to get sick all the time, usually with nothing that was too terrible. Helping his father had taught him that.

"If you say so," Ichigo replied skeptically. "But just in case, you'll go to bed a little early tonight, okay?"

On the verge of complaining, Syaoran was interrupted by a poorly timed yawn and conceded to her father's suggestion. "Hai."

Smiling, Ichigo lowered Syaoran back to the floor, smoothing back her hair with one hand. "Good."

"What about me?" Kaien asked, bounding forward with the type of energy only children could contain. "I don't have to go to bed early, do I?"

Byakuya could just see the fight beginning to brew, Syaoran's eyes narrowing at her brother's obvious jab and attempted display of superiority. He could even see her beginning to draw up straight and bristle, a cold aura surrounding her. Kaien was acting far too smug for her liking.

He quickly stepped in to put what was becoming a more common occurrence to a complete halt. "I think we can amuse ourselves while tou-san takes a bath," Byakuya announced, patting both children on the back and ushering them with gentle pushes out of the room.

Steps followed after him. "You don't have to do that," Ichigo said, but the effect was lost when the last word trailed off on the end of a yawn.

Grey eyes glanced once over his shoulder, narrowing in disapproval. "You haven't even removed Zangetsu yet, Ichigo. I think I can handle them just fine."

The fifth-division captain blinked at the commanding tone, probably not unlike what Byakuya used with his subordinates. He lifted a hand in a dismissive wave as he turned around, towards the opposite direction.

"Have it your way," Ichigo called back as he disappeared down the hall, shaking his head in amusement.

Byakuya planned to do just that. He directed the children into their rooms, keeping careful track of the monitor always at his side. But there had been no peep from the twins.

He wrestled Kaien and Syaoran into their nemaki, the latter easier than the former, and let each select one story to read. Plopped down on the floor in Kaien's room, they read the books together, Byakuya letting them pick out words they knew and work on the ones they didn't. Syaoran crawled into his lap, and he couldn't help but notice that she had been unusually clingy lately. Perhaps it was due to the absence of her mother.

He felt Senbonzakura stir in the back of his mind as he read, her words echoing to him when he least wanted them to. ' _They are not your children, dear heart. They are hers_.'

As if he needed the reminder.

But he was only doing as an uncle should. As a brother-in-law should. Helping Ichigo and caring for the children were his duties.

' _Then why aren't ya with Rukia_?' Zaraki's voice slithered into his mind, for once not repeating the same tired statement Byakuya had grown used to hearing.

He had an answer for that, too. Ichigo needed him more. What could he do for Rukia but sit with her, talk with her? He couldn't make the scandal, for lack of a better word, disappear. He couldn't heal the wounds. But Ichigo had only one set of hands and four children. He still had a job to do and a house to look after. He couldn't do it by himself forever.

Syaoran yawned in his lap, stirring him from his thoughts. It was probably the third time she had done so in the last ten minutes.

"Time for bed, hime," he announced.

Too tired to argue, Syaoran simply nodded and stood, giving Byakuya room to rise as well. He handed Kaien the book, which was the one he had picked out, and left it open to the page they had paused upon.

"Try and pick out a few more words," Byakuya suggested, taking Syaoran's hand. "I'll be right back."

"Yes, oji-san."

Satisfied that he would be obeyed, he took Syaoran into her room and tucked her into bed. She was so weary she tumbled into it with little of her natural grace and was yawning again by the time he finished pulling the blankets over her.

"I want tou-chan to say goodnight," Syaoran mumbled on the cusp of sleep. Her eyes were already shuttered closed.

"I'll send him in as soon as he's done," Byakuya promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Ichigo was right. She did feel a bit warm.

Syaoran nodded sleepily. "Night, Byakuya-oji-san."

"Goodnight, hime."

The only sound he received was that of her even breathing. Smiling faintly to himself, he waved his hand to cancel the light and stepped quietly out of the room. He paused by the twin's bedroom, but they hadn't so much as stirred. And his senses caught Ichigo towards the back of the house, still taking a bath. Convinced that all was well, Byakuya returned to Kaien's room.

His nephew was still sitting on the floor, book perched on his legs. He looked deep in thought as Byakuya entered.

"A difficult word?" the Kuchiki noble queried aloud, noticing that Kaien's forehead was crunched with deep thought.

Kaien shook his head negatively. It was then that Byakuya realized that he hadn't so much as even turned the page, despite the fact he read this book well enough to have at least done that much. Whatever had caused him pause had nothing to do with the story.

"Something wrong, Kaien?"

The boy's hands curled around the hard cover of the book, gripping it tightly. There was a moment of reflective silence before Kaien softly and hesitatingly broke it.

"Do you think it's my fault?"

Understanding washed over the Kuchiki heir. Steeling himself for what was likely going to be a difficult conversation, he lowered himself down next to Kaien. Deft fingers carefully plucked the book from his grasp, closing it and setting it aside. Big blue eyes, reflections of his mother's, looked at him so sadly. That same gaze as before, asking and begging for answers.

"Did your tou-san say that?" Byakuya asked gently, wondering how in Hueco Mundo he was supposed to discuss this sort of delicate situation. Or even handle it.

The boy dropped his eyes. "No, but... adults aren't supposed to say stuff like that either. And I know tou-san wouldn't say that."

What intelligence. Kaien was surprising him more and more each day. Byakuya knew that technically it was Kaien's fault. His words had started the whole debacle in motion. But he couldn't tell the young boy that; otherwise, he would punish himself for it.

Even more truthfully, however, the true blame rested with his parents, who had let this go on for so long without attempting to do something about it. Who had let it get to the point that their children were witnesses and eventually had questions. And then, Byakuya himself was equally to blame for bringing it to the attention of his mentor, which inadvertently gave the issue a public face. He couldn't tell the boy that. It would be like blaming Ichigo for the entire Aizen affair since it was his taking Rukia's powers that had started _everything_.

"And I started it because I talked to you, and--"

"Kaien," he interrupted, voice was firm enough that it gathered the boy's attention. "Sometimes…" Byakuya trailed off, hesitating as he searched for the words. "Sometimes, things happen because they must, and there is nothing we can do to change them. No matter how much we wish to."

He looked down at the ground, little body trembling. "I want her to come back. I miss her." He paused and then added, "And Syaoran and the twins do, too." Another painfully loud pause. "And I know tou-chan does."

He slipped into "tou-chan" there for a moment, Byakuya noticed. It was rather endearing, proving that Kaien was still just a child. The boy ever so subtly inched closer, and Byakuya took that as permission of acceptance for comfort. His nephew didn't cry, probably because he didn't consider it manly to do so.

"I am sorry, little bird," Byakuya murmured and rubbed gentle fingers over his nephew's back. And it was all he could say.

He was as much of a failure at comforting now as he had been for Ichigo. He couldn't lie and say everything was going to be alright because it wasn't. Rukia wasn't coming back to live with them. Nothing was going to be as it had before. Nor could Byakuya say that. It wasn't his place to tell Ichigo's children what their parents had mutually decided.

He could only hold Kaien and be there. It was all he was capable of doing.

A sound in the doorway, several minutes later, brought Ichigo's return to Byakuya's attention. He looked up, finding a frown decorating the older man's lips. His gaze was flickering between his son and his friend, a question evident. Byakuya returned his look with a promise to discuss it later. He knew that Ichigo's senses, both spiritual and father alike, were too strong to not realize that Kaien was upset.

He stepped into the room. "Syaoran's already gone to bed?"

Byakuya nodded, Kaien taking the opportunity to appear as if nothing was wrong, even flipping a few pages in the book. "She seemed tired. And you were right, she was rather warm."

He found himself carefully lowering his gaze, something about Ichigo's current attire demanding that he did so. It wasn't anything dramatic. An ankle-length nemaki belted tightly and a towel draped over his head, but for some reason, it seemed inappropriate. The freshly scrubbed look was one that suited Ichigo, and Byakuya knew that it was his ruination that he even noticed.

In all fairness, Ichigo was an attractive man. There was little doubt of that. Byakuya understood that as much as he understood that people found him attractive as well. He could admit to himself when other males around him were good-looking. His senpai, for example, had the grace and hair that many women envied. And Renji, he supposed, had that rugged appearance that others found appealing. Not to mention the other good-looking males that seemed to be prevalent in the upper echelons of the Gotei 13.

Therefore, it stood to reason, that he would notice how attractive his brother-in-law was. In a purely aesthetic manner, of course. But this… this noticing went far beyond casual comparisons or understanding of appeal. This was something personal, and he was finally starting to realize it. Had he been doing this all along?

"It's getting pretty late," Ichigo commented, dragging a mortified Byakuya from his internal thoughts. He was still scrubbing the towel over his hair, trying to get every last drop. "You can stay in the guest room, if you want. I know it's still pretty wet out there."

Byakuya paused, the offer perfectly normal but somehow sending a strange shock through him. It was proper manners, after all. Yet, considering the situation and Rukia and the rumors, it somehow sounded suspicious. Not to himself, but he could just imagine the rumor mill. Could just _hear_ Zaraki's snickering in the back of his mind.

He carefully shook his head. "Thank you, but no," he replied and carefully kept any unnecessary inflection from his voice. "I have things that I must do at the manor."

Ichigo seemed to accept this excuse with no evidence of disbelief. He simply shrugged.

"Just thought I'd ask." Dropping the towel down around his shoulders, Ichigo raked a hand through disarrayed and damp strands. "Come on, squirt. Time for bed."

Rather than argue, as both adults had half-expected, Kaien nodded obediently. Likely subdued by his conversation with his uncle. Byakuya closed the book and set it to the side, rising to his feet.

"Goodnight, Kaien," he murmured, patting the boy on the head. He knew that Kaien wouldn't be as accepting of the affection as Syaoran.

"Night, oji-san. Thanks."

Letting Ichigo tuck his son into bed, Byakuya politely excused himself from the room and paused in the hall. He wasn't going to simply leave as that would be impolite, so he waited in the corridor. He could hear the low murmur of their voices but didn't listen, too absorbed with his own thoughts.

It wasn't the first time he had seen Ichigo fresh out of the bath or shower. Hell, during the war, he'd seen Ichigo barely wearing anything but bits of cloth and the tattered remnants of his shihakushou. Covered in blood and standing by sheer will power alone, fingers gripped tightly to Zangetsu's hilt. Determined to fight again, despite winning several battles by himself already.

Byakuya shook his head, forcing himself out of the past and into the present. Where nothing really made sense anymore. Where the mere sight of his _best friend_ and _brother-in-law_ in a long robe made something inside of him squirm. And he hadn't even bared anything.

It was ridiculous.

If he were anyone else, Byakuya would be blushing.

"Goodnight, Kaien," floated to his ears as Ichigo stepped out of the room behind Byakuya. He pulled the door shut behind him, and grey eyes met brown. Ichigo gestured silently down the hallway, encouraging Byakuya to precede him. "What was wrong with Kaien?" he asked quietly as they started down the corridor and headed for the main door. The furrows on his brow deepened in his concern.

Byakuya sighed and patted down his hakama, straightening wrinkles that weren't present. "You need to talk to he and Syaoran about their mother. Especially what you have decided to do."

Ichigo's fingers rubbed across his forehead. "I know," he said wearily. "It's just... not easy to say. I'm not ready to disappoint them like that."

"He still blames himself for it."

"Well, technically..."

Byakuya gave him an exasperated look. "You can't tell him that."

"Again, something that I already know." He paused, frustration stealing into his features. "I want it to be a good time, but that's pretty much impossible. I don't want to be the villain, but I don't want them to hate her either. I just don't know what to say that won't hurt them."

The Kuchiki noble took a breath, choosing his words carefully. "No matter how you phrase it, they will be upset, Ichigo. And the longer you wait, it will only be worse."

A defeated bluster of air escaped Ichigo's mouth, lips set tightly. It tugged something inside of Byakuya, that look of near hopelessness. It was an expression he didn't think he would ever see on the face of the unbeatable and determined Kurosaki Ichigo.

"You're right," he muttered, nearly sounding like a sulking Kaien in that moment. "Just like always."

For once, Byakuya didn't have it in him to be smug. There were some things he preferred to be wrong about. They approached the door in that moment, Byakuya busying himself with sliding his feet out of his house shoes and into his waraji. He didn't relish walking in them in the rain, but there really was no other choice. Not even a burst of shunpo could prevent him from getting wet.

"Byakuya?"

He looked up, pausing in the midst of tightening the straps. "Yes?"

A faint smile tugged at Ichigo's lips. "Thanks for looking after them."

The honesty and appreciation in brown eyes seemed to bore right through him and Byakuya had no choice but to look away. It was all too easy to fall into those eyes, a trap he had only come to notice recently.

One hand dug into his pocket, pulling out the baby monitor that he had nearly taken home with him. This he handed over to Ichigo as he responded to the other captain's gratitude.

"I seem to remember having this conversation before," he said if only to have something to say. "But you are welcome anyway. And Syaoran asked for you to see her. She's probably asleep now but check just in case."

Ichigo inclined his head, glancing once at the monitor before dropping it in a pocket on his robe. "I should probably check her temperature again. Make sure she's not running a fever."

"That is a good idea." Byakuya turned and prepared to leave as though he had great urgency to escape when a certain memory tugged at the back of his brain. "And don't forget about dinner this weekend. Jyuushiro and Izuru have already asked to babysit." He relaxed once he steered the conversation back to more comfortable territory.

At least, territory that wasn't heightened by the close proximity of their positions. The semi-darkness of the hallway and the faint sound of a soft rain falling outside. The light scent of Ichigo's soap, whatever it was he used that made him smell clean and crisp, and those damn eyes that said so much without saying anything at all.

Zaraki cackled in the back of Byakuya's mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was even any escape for him. Or had he already succumbed to something he refused to admit to himself?

"Byakuya?"

He blinked, not even realizing that he had trailed off in the middle of his thoughts. Byakuya shook his head and finished the ties to his sandals.

"I know that it is Sanji's weekend off. This way, the children won't have to suffer your cooking."

Ichigo arched one brow, though his face still held some confusion. "It's not that bad," he protested, folding his arms over his chest.

The full effect of a Kuchiki's doubtful stare was turned his direction. It spoke all that Byakuya needed.

"It's edible," Ichigo insisted.

Byakuya's look didn't fade.

The other captain snorted and rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "We'll be there. Even if, technically, you aren't the one doing the cooking." A quick glance showed that Byakuya was ready to go, and Ichigo pulled the door open, a wash of damp air rushing in to greet him.

It was still raining outside, though the downpour had softened to a steady faint drizzle. And it wasn't beyond impossible for the great and powerful Kuchiki Byakuya to catch a cold. Swiping up one of his umbrellas, Ichigo offered it to the other man. Surprisingly enough, he took the object without argument and stepped outside, immediately snapping open the plain, black umbrella.

"See you at the captain's meeting tomorrow," Ichigo called out after him as Byakuya started down the path, frowning at the splashes his feet were making.

"If you can manage to make it on time," Byakuya returned and glanced only once over his shoulder. "Goodnight, Ichigo."

"Goodnight."

He watched Byakuya go with a mixture of feelings, all warring inside of him for dominance. A part of him was glad that Byakuya had turned down the use of the guest room. Since suddenly, with Rukia's opinion and the rumors, it seemed suspicious. He found himself analyzing everything he did, every move he made, as if to pinpoint just what had given them away to everyone else. What was so questionable, so telling?

Ichigo felt guilty for those thoughts. Byakuya was his friend above all else. And also his brother-in-law. And yet, he couldn't entirely deny his own wife's accusations and his own soul's – Zangetsu's – insinuations. As Rukia had said, something was there. Something that turned warm and calming whenever he was in Byakuya's presence.

Something that was simply there without asking, that was easy to fall into and impossible to climb out of. That crept in when he wasn't looking, curled around his heart, and clutched tightly. That made him notice all the little things and made the ache of Rukia leaving hurt just a little else. It didn't stop the pain but eased his suffering of it.

And it had all happened without his consent, without even trying. Effortless and so, so simple. He must have been an idiot to not see it all along. Everyone in Soul Society had noticed, had considered themselves part of some secret that the major players were oblivious to.

And even his wife!

Ichigo couldn't help but feel he had betrayed her. It was an inadvertent betrayal, not even a conscious decision but a betrayal nevertheless. No wonder she had been so frustrated. He wondered how much of her pain was a part of his fault?

Sighing to himself, Ichigo finally turned away from the door and shut it behind him, lifting his towel back onto his head. He rubbed the fabric over his still damp hair, mind running in endless circles.

He wondered why nothing in his life could ever go simply. Seeing ghosts as a teenager somehow managed to change his entire life in one fell swoop. Trying to help a friend had saddled him with a constant pale tagalong. His marriage to the woman he had once loved and still very much did was in shambles. And all he had ever done was the right thing. Where was the justice in that?

On the verge of setting himself to brooding again, which meant another night spent sitting on the porch and staring at the moon rather than sleeping, Ichigo promptly forced himself to simply not think. He had to check on Syaoran and the twins, had to make sure Kaien was alright. Had to plan for that unfortunate conversation and wonder what was going to be discussed at the weekly meeting tomorrow.

It wasn't until later that night, much later, when time had just barely crossed into early, pre-dawn, that he allowed himself to remember. To think of the past and the things that had been obvious to everyone else and yet invisible to him. He could see it now, if he looked or recalled. Could see what had convinced everyone else.

It wasn't surprising that he didn't get any sleep that night.

* * *

 


	18. Of Longing

It was late, far past the time she should have gone home, but Rukia wasn't interested in heading back to her empty and quiet quarters. She was a mixture of unease and unhappiness at the moment and sought to bury both in piles of paperwork. If there was anything she could count on with certainty in the world was that there would always be mind-numbing documents to read, sign, stamp, and file.

She missed her children, probably even more so than she missed Ichigo, and that told her something. She knew that she would always love her husband, that her life would never feel quite right without him in it. But it was the absence of her children that bothered her more. She was missing so much of their lives, and it was tearing her up on the inside.

Ichigo let her see them whenever she wanted, but that wasn't the problem. She worried that if she visited too often, than they would hope she was coming home. But it killed her not to see them every day, to tuck them in at night or hear their stories when she came home from work. Every night, she returned to the silence of her quarters, to the coldness when her children weren't present.

Rukia knew that leaving them in Ichigo's custody was probably better. And it was entirely her fault. In pulling away to not hurt him anymore, she had hurt her entire family. It was a truth she had to bear.

Sighing, Rukia reached the bottom of the stack, which left her with nothing to do. And yet, she didn't feel a smidgen of accomplishment at her completed work. Her eyes flickered to the other sheaf of documents, ones what were patiently awaiting her signature for something of a more personal nature.

They had arrived yesterday, right before she had left for the day. At first, Rukia had been confused as to what would be inside such an official envelope. Until she had opened it and glanced at the header. It was then that a painful feeling had gripped her heart, and she had known exactly what they were. The divorce paperwork. Ichigo had prepared it, just as he had claimed.

Reaching out, she dragged the small bundle towards her. Rukia had already read them several times, back and forth. She could recite small portions if need be. There wasn't much to them. It was a mutual agreement. Ichigo would get the children. She could have whatever she wanted at the house. He wasn't going to fight her for anything. She could still visit whenever she wanted, set visitations weren't needed.

Rukia flipped through the pages, finding the places she needed to sign her name. There were only a few. An initial there. A date here. A signature on this line.

It seemed so damn simple. Yet, it was anything but. It was her, giving up her husband and her marriage. Giving up forty years of her life.

Thinking back, she couldn't remember when it had started. She didn't know the first time that she had hit him out of anger and not out of amused exasperation. But she could recall the very moment she had struck him and realized exactly what she had done.

She had been yelling at him for something inane. She wasn't sure what exactly it was now. And it more likely than not wasn't anything to be angry about. She had called him an idiot, had said some other things. And he had been angry, too. She could remember the furrows in his brow, remember the frustration painted onto his face and the firm set to his shoulders.

And then, she remembered hitting him. Slapping him across the face, hard enough that it echoed in their bedroom. She had been able to feel the tingle in her palm, the twitching of her fingers.

The argument – if it could even be called that – had halted then and there. His words had died in his throat; hers had already finished their echo. She had gotten in the last after all.

She remembered looking at him, catching his eyes, her chest heaving in anger and fingers balling into fists. Ready to strike again. It was the look in his eyes, the emotions, that made her catch herself. Made her see something she knew she would never forget again.

A mix of confusion and hurt and betrayal and love. It had all been there, swirling in his eyes. He hadn't lifted a hand back against her, hadn't said anything to counter whatever she had thrown at him. Hadn't even reached up to touch his face where a red mark was beginning to show.

He had simply turned away and left the room. She could vaguely remember one of their children calling for him, probably Kaien.

At the time, she had only stared into space, her hand slowly falling down. She hadn't been able to believe she had actually done that and stared at her palm. Recalling the sound and the sights. Rukia had been struck with several realizations, and she told herself then and there, never again.

Never again.

But a week later, it had happened once more. And then again. And after that. Until she hadn't been able to stop herself. The anger had just continued to build, and so she forced the distance, forced a space between them.

She had kept telling herself, ' _Let everything settle. Let me return to work. Let the twins get a little older. Let the thirteenth settle down. And then, everything will be just fine._ '

Let. Let. Let.

And in the end, it came into the public eye before anything had changed. The fault was her own; she understood that entirely. But still, it hurt. She kept thinking that if it had never come out, would they have made it? If no one ever knew, would she have ever been able to stop?

It was those questions that drove her hesitation.

Her fingers curled tighter around the brush, and she stared at the papers until the kanji blurred in front of her eyes. All she had to do was sign to let him go. Write her name on the divorce papers as easily as it had been to sign the marriage certificate.

He still loved her, Rukia knew this. And she still loved him. The feelings were still there, but they were hidden now. Buried beneath her actions and the rumors and other emotions that were now cropping up. She could see it every time she visited. They were two steps closer to understand and to realizing. She knew it in the way Ichigo had apologized to her. Something he couldn't entirely be blamed for.

She loved him still. But it was time to let go. She couldn't hit him anymore, and after all this mess, she had seen the light. There was no way they could go back. She couldn't change the past. It was better for him. It was better for the children. It was better in the end.

Biting her lip, Rukia dipped her brush into the ink and held it over the last page and the line that was marked visibly on the bottom. With careful strokes, she signed her name, pretending not to notice the droplets that stained the paper. It was only one she needed to sign after all. No one would notice the slightly blurred ink.

It was the hardest thing she had ever written. And when the last stroke fell, so did the brush, off to the side where it wouldn't mark up the rest of the papers. She felt exhausted and drained, heart heavy.

With great care, she blew on the ink until it dried and then folded up the papers. Rukia sealed them into an envelope, feeling as if she were saying goodbye. In the morning, she would drop it off at the proper place.

It was the last thing she did before crashing for the night. In the morning, she would leave for the first of many lengthy scouting missions as Ukitake-taichou had ordered. She wouldn't be able to see the children for a couple of weeks and would probably miss the birth of Orihime's first child. Even more disheartening was the chance that she might miss her daughter's birthday, though she was going to try her best to be present. But the way her luck was holding, it would be one of many failures to add to her list.

The last thing she noticed as she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep was just how very cold it was in her bed.

* * *

The brush swiping over parchment was very soothing, very repetitive, and very good for letting his mind wander. Byakuya could have been writing a grocery list, not that he did the shopping, for all that he knew. He simply didn't care at the moment. All he wanted was for his mind to be carefully blank and not surprising him with revelation after revelation.

Or sneaky Zaraki voices either.

It was safe in his writing. Safe from accusations and the confusion inside his own heart. Away from the painful drama and the feeling of complete and utter helplessness.

"What're you doing?"

The innocent query made him start, the voice feeling much like an invader despite the familiarity. Byakuya gently set down his brush and glanced over his shoulder, spotting his niece in the doorway of his study. He turned, and a smile flitted onto his lips.

"Nothing important," he assured her.

She took his answer as permission to enter, and Syaoran immediately crawled into his lap with no prompt needed. He lifted a hand to smooth down her hair, which she wore loose for once.

"What about you, hime?" Byakuya asked softly.

She shrugged, squirming to get comfortable. "Tou-chan fell asleep, so I'm bored now," Syaoran answered, words accompanied by a yawn of her own, which she demurely covered with her fingers.

Byakuya lifted a brow. Ichigo asleep? Was he truly that tired?

His brother-in-law hadn't even worked that day, having taken the day off and choosing to spend it at Byakuya's home. Not that he hadn't been invited. It had coincidentally been Byakuya's day off as well, and the Kuchiki heir suspected someone had planned that.

He tilted his head to the side. "Where?"

"In the playroom," Syaoran answered a bit sleepily, curling closer to him.

Again, he noted her unusually clinging behavior. Rising to his feet with little difficulty, Byakuya easily tucked her weight into his arms as though she were merely Senbonzakura or his scarf.

"It sounds like you want a nap as well, hime," he responded with a light chuckle.

"Not really," she countered with the same denial in her voice that Byakuya had heard Kaien use before.

He found it somewhat amusing. They, he and Ichigo, had just laid the twins down for their afternoon nap an hour ago. It was a gray day, chilly and wet with the lingering summer storms that tended to make everyone lethargic. And it seemed to have infected the whole household.

Byakuya walked through his mostly silent home, Syaoran hitched on one hip. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and he couldn't help but notice that fact. For the moment, all the stress seemed to be on the back of his mind.

Down the hall and to the right, he found the playroom, something he'd never thought he would have reason to use. It had been there since he had married Hisana but never with any occupants. Now, it was nearly overflowing with the many toys and books and games that the children had collected and left at his house. Spoiled they were, the entire lot of them.

He stepped inside, first catching sight of Kaien, who was quietly gathering up the remnants of whatever he had been playing. Perhaps he and Syaoran had been getting along for once. Byakuya then found Ichigo, curled up on his side on the floor of all places. And like Syaoran had claimed, her father fast asleep. One arm was folded under his head, the other curled close to his body.

Dark blue eyes looked up at his entrance. "Tou-san fell asleep," Kaien said in a low voice, amused by Ichigo's behavior. He snuck a glance at his father. "Just like an old man."

Byakuya shook his head at Kaien's comment, but before he could even speak, Syaoran was quick to chide her brother.

"Be quiet, Kaien," she scolded, her own tone sleepy and slightly congested. "Tou-chan's just tired." She curled closer to her uncle's warmth and laid her head on his shoulder.

Kaien shrugged, and more pieces joined the box with an audible clatter. "He's always tired," the boy returned, and there was a hint of something in his tone. Something that Byakuya knew would have to be addressed soon. Kaien was most definitely sulking.

Byakuya knew that he should probably stop them and the pending argument, but he found himself hesitating. He was discovering more about Ichigo in this moment than he would ever ask Ichigo himself.

"Is that so?" he prompted, keeping his voice low so as not to awaken the sleeping man.

Syaoran nodded. "He doesn't sleep much. Just sits on the porch and thinks a lot." She then directed a scowl at her brother that was clearly disapproving. "So you shouldn't make fun of him, Kaien." Her voice rose with her chastisement.

Byakuya was quick to shush her. "You don't want to wake your tou-san, do you?" he questioned, already moving to the door. "Come, Kaien. You two can play in another room. Let your tou-san sleep."

In the midst of glaring at his sister, Kaien merely nodded and abandoned his half-hearted cleaning, rising to his feet. He followed after his uncle and Syaoran but not before scooping up some toy from the floor.

The captain took them to the drawing room just down the hall, telling them to play quietly until he returned. He promised to play a game with them or read, whichever they preferred. Byakuya only hoped that they wouldn't be arguing by the time that he came back. He stopped in briefly to check on the twins and found them still sleeping peacefully.

Byakuya returned to the playing room, not surprised to find that Ichigo hadn't even moved. In fact, in the short absence, the frown lines in his forehead had smoothed out, proving that he was in a deep sleep for once. Byakuya was loathe to wake him, aware that the rest was probably something that his friend needed.

Yet, Ichigo couldn't possibly be comfortable on the floor. Not like that. He didn't dare move him either. Otherwise, he would wake and then refuse to lie down again. He would be angry at himself for falling asleep and then stubbornly force himself to stay awake.

He really did know Ichigo all too well, didn't he?

" _And you're in love with him._ "

" _We can all see it. Everyone but you two._ "

" _Why bother denying what you know is already true? The only one you are lying to is yourself._ "

" _But he loves you more._ "

Their words echoed in his head, and Byakuya felt something inside of him freeze. His hands curled into fists. And he stared and watched his best friend, the man he _loved_ , sleep.

"It can't be," he whispered to himself, but it even sounded flat and false to him. He wasn't even fooling himself any more, and that was just pathetic.

Byakuya whirled on his heels, seeking the safety of the hallway and a search for a blanket. Oh, he could easily ask any one of the servants to find one for him, but he needed the time to collect himself. To stop the sudden sweat his body had broken into and to ease the rapid beating of his heart.

A quick circuit around his manor, and he eventually found the linen closet. He dug around for a bit, found a decent blanket, and brought his choice back to where he had left Ichigo. His best friend still hadn't moved. Byakuya carefully draped it over Ichigo's body, the other man instantly curling against the added warmth to get comfortable. He looked so much younger when he was asleep, Byakuya noticed. Some of the lines fading away as if they weren't meant to be there at all. He more resembled the uppity brat who had burst into Soul Society all those years ago to rescue his condemned friend.

He could still remember that boy, the days when everything had been simpler. And Byakuya's own heart yearned for Ichigo to be happy again. This whole situation was really taking its toll on him, aging him beyond his years.

Ichigo deserved to be happy, and Byakuya knew that if he had the power to grant it, he would do whatever it took to ensure that his best friend smiled again. A real smile, not the fake one he showed everyone to prove that he was handling the stress just fine. He wasn't. Not if he wasn't sleeping. Ichigo was only hanging on by a thin thread borne from Kurosaki determination.

Something in Byakuya's heart stuttered in that very moment. Skipped several beats until he wasn't certain it was going find its rhythm again. He was struck with a very frightening realization, one that he wasn't ever going to admit aloud to anyone. _Ever_.

Zaraki Kenpachi was right.

He was hopelessly in love with his brother-in-law. And no matter how much he wanted to deny it, Byakuya couldn't ignore the truth inside of him. Somewhere along the way, when he hadn't been looking, he had fallen for his best friend.

There was no point in pretending anymore, in lying to himself. And what an absolute _great_ time this was to have this revelation.

He forced himself to take a step back, a safe distance from the vulnerability that Ichigo didn't even know he was exuding. And then, he went even further. He left the room and headed back to the drawing room, where he could distract himself with Kaien and Syaoran. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he would. Byakuya was not so callous a man that he would stride right in when Ichigo was at his weakest and seek his affections.

Only he would fall for someone so unattainable. He refused to hurt Rukia like that or Ichigo either. He didn't want his actions called into question; he didn't want Ichigo to suffer another scandal. No matter what everyone else kept implying. This was something he had to keep to himself.

Senbonzakura was right. He had been afraid. Byakuya knew that if he admitted it to himself, he would be giving credence to an attraction that would never lead to anything. And that was just as painful as knowing it could never be returned.

Byakuya swallowed hard as he sat down next to the children. He greeted them vaguely and sat in silence as they played, head half-bowed. Thoughts churning in his head. Stomach twisting into knots. Throat dry and tight.

Sometime later, when Byakuya was just starting to relax, the door to the room slid open.

"Kuchiki-sama?"

He looked up from the game, which Syaoran was about to win, and found Kuina standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

She bowed. "Dinner has been prepared and is set out in the dining room. It awaits your convenience."

Kaien leapt to his feet, pumping one fist into the air. "Finally!" he declared, the motion accompanied by the grumbling of his belly.

His uncle quickly shot him a disapproving look. "Composure, Kaien," he reminded the boy as he rose to his feet and slowly dusted off his kimono. "Thank you, Kuina. Will you please prepare the children for dinner?"

"Of course, Kuchiki-sama."

Helping Syaoran to her feet with an offered hand, Byakuya prodded them towards Kuina. "Behave for Kuina. I need to wake your tou-san."

"Hai!" they chirped in unison and darted after her.

Convinced they would be fine for the few minutes, he turned down the hall in the opposite direction and headed back to the playroom. A curl of something made its way through his insides. Was it going to be like that every time he saw Ichigo? This unnameable something wriggling in his belly?

He paused in the doorway and looked in, as though stepping over the threshold meant something important. Ichigo had hardly moved, except for one arm, reaching out to the side as if groping for a warmth that wasn't there. It was a scene that nearly broke his heart.

It was unfair of Ichigo to do that, tug on Byakuya's heartstrings when he wasn't even conscious. He had already captured the stoic Kuchiki's heart. What more did he want?

Taking a breath, Byakuya walked into the room and knelt beside the sleeping man, settling a purely innocent hand on his shoulder. "Ichigo. Wake up," he urged with a careful shake. He would have liked to let him sleep, but Ichigo probably hadn't been eating very well either.

The younger man stirred almost immediately, a low groan of disappointment escaping him. "Nnnn. Byakuya?"

"Hai," he answered as Ichigo's eyes opened and narrowed against the harshness of the light, blinking sleepily.

He shifted to his back, hand rising to cover his forehead, before his gaze moved to Byakuya. His eyes were dark pools that did nothing to hide the prevalent sadness. A mere look was enough to clench Byakuya's heart, whose hand curled into a fist at his side, well out of Ichigo's sight. He had fallen hard, just as he had for Hisana. A fool all over again.

"I fell asleep?" Ichigo questioned, voice slurred as he drew up one leg, causing the blanket to fall away from him.

Byakuya nodded. "Yes. And now, it's time for dinner."

The other captain appeared to be digesting this, brow furrowing in thought. His fingers slid down from his forehead, and then, he was looking at Byakuya, who belatedly realized he still hadn't removed his traitorous hand.

It happened slowly, but to Byakuya it felt as if it happened too quickly for him to even realize. Ichigo's hand slid up, curled around his neck, and dragged him down. He knew that he could and probably should resist. But he was drawn towards Ichigo as though he had no will to do anything but abide by what his best friend wanted. That unstoppable Kurosaki force.

It was far from the stuff fairy tales were made of. Ichigo had morning breath, and Byakuya was in an odd position, precariously balanced. Their lips touched, and Byakuya was filled with the overwhelmingly unusual feeling of kissing a man, a man that was his brother-in-law and best friend, who he had inadvertently fallen in love with. It knocked all sense of reason from his mind and left him with a stunned sort of immobility that prevented him from reacting properly until after Ichigo had pulled away.

And then, it was instinct.

He followed Ichigo's lips, capturing them before he could fully get away. Showing that yes, he had wanted it. And dammit, he had just been taken by surprise. His hand hit the ground, providing a balance so it was that much less awkward.

The second kiss was just a bit sweeter. His fingers clenching against the polished floor and the blanket as if to stop himself from touching Ichigo and taking it further than necessary. It was safer, much safer that way. This sudden hunger surprised even himself.

Byakuya ended the kiss without ever introducing his tongue, and for a moment, the two of them were looking at each other. Ichigo's face was a mixture of surprise and understanding, and Byakuya was certain the look on his own must have resembled absolute terror and complete longing.

How ironic.

The realization that he loved Ichigo came to him in a manner of seconds, and then, within a few hours, Ichigo took it upon himself to introduce a kiss. That damned Kurosaki sense of recklessness, he supposed. Catching him when he was off guard and sending him reeling as usual. Byakuya didn't think he would ever get used to it, and honestly, he didn't want to.

Licking his lips, as if to savor the sensation, he looked at Ichigo. The younger man was staring back, equally unflinching.

"Why?" Byakuya found himself asking before he entirely realized what he was questioning.

After all, Byakuya knew why he had kissed Ichigo. But did Ichigo know why he had kissed Byakuya? Was it instinct? A calling for comfort? A need to be wanted? He had to know that he wasn't just there, a shoulder to lean on that would vanish once everything was okay. He had to know it was _real_ and not a consequence of circumstance.

"Because it's you," Ichigo responded simply and without missing a single beat.

The dazed expression on Byakuya's face, one that spoke of both surprise and confusion, must have prompted Ichigo to clarify. He smiled gently, a true smile that Byakuya had just vowed to see again.

"It's always been you, and somehow… I hadn't noticed it before. I guess that I really am an idiot."

He wasn't the only one either. And Byakuya flushed at the memory of just how foolish he had been.

"That makes two of us," he muttered, thinking of a certain captain who was currently cackling in the back of his brain. "It took Zaraki to point it out for me." He shifted in embarrassed recollection. "He felt it necessary to inform me of my apparent attraction."

"Kenpachi, hmm?" Ichigo repeated, and his eyes shifted to the side before widening in amusement. His gaze darted back to Byakuya, a hint of teasing in its depths. "Is that why you punched him?"

He was a Kuchiki; he did not blush. And yet, the heat threatening to rise in his cheeks certainly tried to prove otherwise.

"Partially," Byakuya admitted, keeping to himself the voice in the back of his head. He didn't want Ichigo to think he was crazy.

Not that it really mattered. And before the conversation continued any further, they were kissing again; he wasn't sure who moved first. Whether it was himself or Ichigo who initiated the third engagement of lips.

All he knew was that Ichigo was kissing him with more determination this time, less cautious and anxious testing. Byakuya all too eagerly returned the hunger, finally introducing a tongue into the mix and tasting the strange mix of flavors he could now associate with Ichigo.

All the fluttering in his belly, the confused coiling, ceased when they kissed. And he finally understood why he had been so ill at ease, why just the mere glance at his best friend could make him feel so oddly. It was like seeing Hisana for the first time all over again. Only Ichigo didn't need saving. He could take care of himself. But that didn't mean Byakuya couldn't be there to help.

Outside the room, footsteps pattered on the wooden floor. A spike of small, but growing in power every day, reiatsu surged their direction. Kaien. And Syaoran as well, by the feel of it. Hastily, the two men separated, not wanting to be caught in such an awkward position by children who would definitely have questions.

The Kuchiki heir thrust himself to his feet, situating the folds of his kimono that hadn't really moved as Ichigo stood and gathered up the blanket. He mindlessly folded it, wanting to say something, but unsure what he needed to say. It had been pure impulse to kiss Byakuya like that, something he had realized he wanted to do but hadn't thought to enact until just then.

He didn't regret it. No, far from it. Ichigo was glad that he had done so because it only confirmed what he had already suspected. He was in love with his best friend, his wife's only brother. Probably had been as long as everyone else had believed. And Rukia had known.

Ichigo couldn't just go jumping headlong into a new relationship. Not when he still longed for her. He hadn't known it was possible up until that point. But now, his heart was tugging in two directions. The wife who was all too ready to end their marriage, and the best friend who was as equally confused as he. His realization certainly hadn't made things any easier.

Before he could speak, if he had even found the words, Kaien and Syaoran appeared in the doorway. They immediately set sight on their uncle and father.

"Tou-san!" they said in unison. "Oji-san! It's time for dinner."

A gentle smile curling his lips, Ichigo laid the blanket on the back of a chair and stepped forward. "I know," he said and patted Kaien's head. "Were you that hungry?"

The boy scowled and reached up to fix his coif. "Of course. And you were sleeping, so I was bored, too! You promised to spar with me!"

"I'm sorry." Ichigo winced internally because Kaien was right. He had promised. "I'll make it up to you."

He glanced over his shoulder where Byakuya was already taking Syaoran's hands, the little girl looking up at her uncle with shining eyes. He caught Byakuya's gaze and something unspoken passed between them.

They would talk about this later. But for the moment, their attention was redirected to the children as Kaien spoke again, dragging his father back to the conversation.

It was time for dinner.

* * *

"It seems like it has been a long time since we have been able to sit and talk like this," Jyuushiro commented, dark eyes watching Kaien and Syaoran as they played in the back garden. In his lap, Ryuu rested comfortably, watching his "grandfather" with much interest.

Jyuushiro had stopped by early that morning to bring back Ryuu and Mikan, who he had watched the night before. He was dressed in his shihakushou and captain's haori and had only a short time to visit before heading into the office. Still, he was going to make the most of it and carry a conversation with Ichigo.

Tiny hands grasped onto Ichigo's fingers, squeezing and releasing as though testing something. "There hasn't exactly been opportunity," Ichigo replied with a smile at Mikan as she sat in his lap.

"Yes," Jyuushiro agreed with a faint nod, brushing his hair out of his face. "We've both been very busy, especially now that my division has picked up extra patrols."

Ichigo had nearly forgotten about those in the wake of everything else. He probed his mind for information but couldn't think of anything. He only vaguely recalled that some strange Hollows had been sighted. That was the extent of his knowledge.

"Have you found anything?"

Jyuushiro shook his head negatively. "Not yet. A few small creatures but nothing of any particular concern. I can't say whether that is blessing or curse."

A touch of worry for Rukia entered his heart. Knowing her, she had probably volunteered to lead the more dangerous missions, not wanting to put her subordinates at risk. It was a trait that had always worried Ichigo, even if he had the habit of doing the same himself.

His gaze shifted to his children, who he still hadn't told about his decision to separate from Rukia. With the papers sitting in his office and the knowledge that Rukia had already signed hers, it was becoming more of a necessity to discuss. Something he needed to do soon. However, just like his signature, he kept pushing it aside.

Much like his realization about Byakuya and his feelings for the man. Unfortunately, they hadn't had opportunity to speak since that day, both of them entirely embroiled in work and the children. No more than a week had passed, and still, Ichigo couldn't find the words he wanted to speak.

The realization came easily enough. Admitting it to himself even simpler. But knowing what to do, how to react and where to go from there, that was the hard part. He wanted to be with Rukia. He wanted to be with Byakuya. He just wanted everyone to be happy, for his children to no longer worry.

Or maybe the problem was that he didn't really know what he wanted, and so he lingered, standing on the line and waiting for one choice or the other to seem superior. Ichigo really wasn't sure. The only thing he knew for certain was that he missed his wife and thinking of Byakuya made him feel calm and at ease. Being around the other man warmed him from the inside, chasing away all the madness. Understanding him in a way Rukia never had.

With a firm shake of his head, Ichigo forced himself away from the circuitous thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. He racked his brain to recall what Jyuushiro had last said, and ironically, he found himself holding the same opinion as the older captain.

"Neither can I," he responded a bit distractedly.

Hollows would mean battle. But they would also mean danger for others, including those who couldn't defend themselves.

"Do you know if Rukia will be able to return in time for Syaoran's birthday later this week?" he asked, the question bothering him for some time now.

Jyuushirou inclined his head. "I will make certain of it," he declared quietly. "She will certainly be able to spare a few hours for it."

"Thank you," Ichigo responded, instantly feeling a bit of tension ease for that. Syaoran had been concerned she wouldn't be able to see her mother, though she had hid it well.

Dark eyes watched him searchingly. Jyuushiro could tell that he was a man conflicted, and he breathed deeply. He didn't have long before he was supposed to be in the office, but Jyuushiro was still glad for this opportunity to speak with Ichigo. In taking care of Rukia, he hadn't been able to find time for her husband, his own protégé. But now, he had the chance, and he was going to take it.

"Ichigo."

The lost gaze focused once more, turning back his direction. It was a wordless encouragement to speak.

Jyuushiro smiled gently. "I know that I'm not your father." He paused, and a short chuckle escaped him before he continued, "No matter how much you wish it were so. But I do think of you as a son. And I do want you to be happy. I want you and Rukia both to be happy. As you are now, neither of you ever will be."

"I know," came the response, and Ichigo's eyes dropped to his daughter, who was giggling in his arms. His face eased with love for his children, but there was still an aura of tense confusion around him. "But I've never made a habit of letting go."

Jyuushiro knew that all too well. It was a trait Ichigo had shown time and time again during the war against Aizen.

"So I noticed," he mused aloud. "Sometimes, however, there's nothing left to fight against or for. And you end up struggling simply for the sake of doing so."

Silence reigned between them as Ichigo absorbed Jyuushiro's words. A warm wind stirred, bringing with it the fresh scent of the last of summer's blooms. Fall was slowly seeping its way into the weather, bringing with it the chill of rain and the fading color of the leaves.

Jyuushiro breathed deeply and enjoyed the somewhat peaceful moment. He would let Ichigo digest as long as he needed. He knew from experience that pushing anyone Kurosaki was useless.

"I kissed Byakuya."

He nearly choked. Blinking, Jyuushiro turned his attention completely on Ichigo. It wasn't that Ichigo's action was completely unexpected, but the way he had just come out and said it had surprised Jyuushiro.

Gentle fingers teased his daughter, Mikan giggling as she tried to capture the calloused digits. "And I'm only telling you because I know you won't be surprised," Ichigo continued, oblivious to the confused blinking of the man next to him. "Everyone in Soul Society seems to find it amusing, how little I actually know about my own feelings." There was a trace of irritation in Ichigo's tone, as though recalling something that only annoyed him.

Jyuushiro carefully chose his next words. "I wouldn't say _amusing_ ," he began slowly. "But many of us were aware that your affections were not limited to Rukia, even if you never acknowledged those emotions."

"Yeah, well, it's not really something I thought to realize. I love Rukia; that hasn't changed, but now..." He paused, searching for the proper words. "Now, I know that I love him, too."

Jyuushiro shifted Ryuu's weight in his arms, rocking the calm twin, whose eyes were fluttering in the lazy warmth. "Understandable. Have you decided what you are going to do?"

The other man shook his head, wincing faintly. "I haven't even signed the papers yet, Jyuushiro. They're still sitting on my desk, covered with excuses."

"Rukia has signed them?"

Another moment of heavy silence followed Jyuushiro's query. Ichigo's attention seemed to be caught by Kaien and Syaoran. The former's face filled with a strange sort of concentration as he practiced swinging his bokken, the latter humming under her breath as she tried to catch a butterfly.

"Yes," Ichigo finally answered, and their eyes met. "I'm stupid for hanging on like this, aren't I? When she's already given up?"

It was such a delicate situation, and Jyuushiro again found himself being careful in how he spoke.

"I wouldn't say it was foolish," he stated. "But I would say that it is painful. You cannot heal if you keep forcing the wound to open."

Ichigo laughed, a sharp barking sound that was filled with restrained hurt. "For all your honesty, you can be quite crafty, Jyuushiro," he commented with a shake of his head. "Your method of giving advice without straight up suggesting anything puts the geta-boushi to shame."

He couldn't help but smirk at that; he had been caught so easily. "How else do you think I have put up with Shunsui all these years?" Jyuushiro straightened with the intention of imitating himself, putting on a stern yet cheerful face. "Shun, it is far easier to sleep on one's desk when it is clear of paperwork. Or… it would be a pity if you failed to woo that fair lady because of too much alcohol." He chuckled.

The amusement in Ichigo's expression deepened, some of the aura of disquieting emotions around him seeming to dissipate. "I can just about imagine."

Dark eyes watched the other captain for a minute more before Jyuushiro decided he had said all that he had come to say. "I apologize for cutting my visit short, but I do have to be in the office soon." He carefully handed a quiescent Ryuunosuke to his father.

"I know," Ichigo responded, taking his son easily so that both twins shared his lap. "Thank you for watching them."

Mikan seemed to protest what had been hers alone for a short time and kicked out at her brother. Only half-paying attention, Ichigo easily separated the two with the sort of intuition only a father held, bopping Mikan gently on the nose with a murmured "share."

Jyuushiro watched this exchange with bemusement as he rose to his feet, patting down his haori and putting on his dignified captain's appearance. "Anytime. You know that, Ichigo." One hand went to his good-as-son's shoulder and squeezed tightly.

"I do."

He shifted his attention to Kaien and Syaoran, watching his grandchildren play for a few minutes longer. They longed reasonably content, or they could have been pretending for the sake of not worrying their father. Ichigo's children were far too perceptive and intelligent for their own good sometimes. Jyuushiro wouldn't put it past them.

Still, the moment seemed peaceful enough. Quiet and calm. Away from the madness that was slowly beginning to fade.

He had one more piece of advice to offer.

"I wouldn't think to tell you what to do, Ichigo," Jyuushiro inserted quietly. "But I do hope you realize that what you want will not be realized unless you make your decision. For you and your children."

It was another one of those enigmatic suggestions. Yet, it still managed to make Ichigo smile.

"I do. And thanks. For everything, sensei."

Jyuushiro blinked and cleared his throat. His wisdom therefore imparted, Jyuushiro murmured a sincere goodbye and excused himself to his duties, leaving the Kurosaki family minus one to their playtime. He could only hope that Ichigo took his words to heart.

He loved his lieutenant and her husband dearly, but until both of them moved on, neither would be happy. There wouldn't be a chance to discover anything else. And he hoped to see a smile in both of their faces in the future, however near or far that was.

For both their sakes.

* * *

 


	19. Excuses

"You're sure that you're not hungry?" Yumichika asked, disbelief etched into his tone as he frowned at his captain.

"Positive," he replied, amused by his vice-captain's concern. Ichigo waved him off and diligently hunched over a stream of new paperwork, all of which accompanied the stream of new Academy graduates whom had joined his division.

He was treated to another one of Yumichika's skeptical stares before the other man simply sighed. "I'll bring you something anyway," he said.

Ichigo knew far better than to argue otherwise. "If you insist."

"I do."

Purple eyes watched him for a moment more before Yumichika excused himself from the room, leaving Ichigo to his paperwork and contemplations. Honestly, his vice-captain had a rather annoying habit of trying to be his wife sometimes.

Once he was certain Yumichika was gone, Ichigo put down his brush and stretched, hearing the bones in his back creak and pop. Paperwork was exhausting, and if he had known there would be so much beforehand, he might have had second thoughts about becoming a captain. But they had needed him at the time, and like always, he couldn't just turn them down.

It wasn't so much that it was a lot of work, but that it was time consuming and boring. He would much rather be out training the lower-seats or leading scouting parties. And unlike _some_ others, he didn't foist all his work onto Yumichika. He was pretty sure that his flirtatious vice-captain wouldn't mind, but he wasn't going to take advantage either.

Ichigo closed his eyes and raked a hand over his hair, feeling more tired than he should feel considering he hadn't done anything more strenuous than sign papers. It had been a busy week, and he really hadn't had time to absorb much of anything. Or carry any of the conversations he had needed, not a discussion with Byakuya or an explanation for his children.

Rukia had visited the children the day before, explaining that she would be leaving for some time, completing duties that the thirteenth had picked up. The air between husband and wife had been filled with a tired sort of sadness, and Ichigo busied himself with the twins so that he didn't have to watch the woman he loved. It still hurt too much.

Neither Kaien nor Syaoran had been too happy, but they hadn't argued. Syaoran especially had been upset and had spent most of the visit clinging to her mother's side. There was a possibility that Rukia would miss her birthday party, which she expressed great regret for, though promising she had something wonderful for her daughter and would see if she could return at least for that one day. The mixture of hope and disappointment in Syaoran's gaze, however, never faded. And it was a solemn little girl who Ichigo tucked into bed last night, not once questioning when her mother would be back. It nearly broke his heart.

At least, he understood now why Syaoran hadn't wanted a large affair for her birthday this year. Just something small, involving the closest relatives and friends and none of those sycophantic strangers who were trying to impress the high-ranking Shinigami. His little girl was already looking forward to wearing her new kimono, specially chosen and bought by her uncle.

Forcing his eyes to open before he fell asleep in his office and worried Yumichika even more, Ichigo sat back up and looked at the piles of papers on his desk. His gaze shifted from the work-related documents to the ones of a more personal nature, carefully arranged on the corner of his desk. Patiently awaiting his signature.

Shoulders slumped, he tugged them towards him, pushing aside supply requisitions and progress reports. He'd read them enough, practically memorized what the official papers said. He knew where he had to sign and how many times; he knew exactly what he would be agreeing to. Divorce would have never been this simple in the Living World.

He lifted his brush, fiddling with the carved wood and holding the bristles over the ink well. He knew that he needed to sign, that it was time to just let go. Yet, Ichigo lingered, feeling something in his heart clench. The pain wasn't as enclosing as it had been before, balmed by other realizations, but it still hurt.

Their marriage had really ended long ago; he was slowly coming to understand that. They had been clinging to the remnants of it and hoping, trying to salvage what remained. Neither of them could hope to be happy again if they remained in limbo, just waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't fair to Rukia. It wasn't fair to his children. It wasn't fair to himself. And it was obvious by her own signature that she understood far better than him what was best for them.

She didn't want to hurt him again.

He thought of Jyuushiro's words, his subtle suggestions. There was no going back, as much as he hated to admit it. While he would always love Rukia, they could not return to their old relationship. To the passion they had once shared. There was too much between them. In fact, he wasn't even sure what he was holding out and hoping for anymore.

Maybe Shunsui was right. Maybe he was just in love with the idea of being married to her, of having someone to come home to every night. Of someone to share everything with. But Rukia was gone, and he wouldn't have that with her again. Nor would he have it with anyone else if he didn't let her go.

His fingers clenched around the brush, and Ichigo forced himself to dip it into the ink, carefully patting off the extra fluid. With sharp, even strokes he applied his name to the paper: _Kurosaki Ichigo_. Signing away his marriage, his life with Rukia. Giving her up. Letting her go.

Ichigo's hands were heavy as he finished the last stroke and laid down the brush, watching the dark lines quickly dry. He waited for the wash of relief, the wash of something to crest over him. Instead, all he felt was incredibly tired. It was done, and he felt no better than before.

The rest was purely mechanical. Folding the papers and putting them in an envelope. Sealing it closed with his official seal.

The sound of hurried and concerned knocking suddenly disturbed his thoughts, causing him to nearly start in the soft quiet of his office. Clearing his throat, he set down the envelope.

"Enter."

The door slid open, revealing a man he did not recognize with the fourth divisions familiar bag slung across his body. He bowed faintly as he stepped inside, looking a bit harried.

Ichigo frowned in confusion. "Yes?"

"Abarai-san has gone into labor," the younger man explained succinctly, pausing briefly to catch his breath. "She requests your presence."

A small treble of excitement coursed through Ichigo, who had wanted to be present for the momentous occasion. He well remembered the exhilaration of the birth of his own children. Still, it seemed a bit odd.

"Where's Renji?"

Faint amusement crossed his visitor's expression. "He's exactly why Kotetsu-taichou sent me to get you," he replied and seemed as if he were trying to hold back his laughter. "Abarai-taichou is--"

He stopped when Ichigo held up a hand, feeling a sense of amused annoyance. "I think I can guess." He chuckled and rose to his feet, able to imagine the insanity that Renji was probably producing at the moment.

Ichigo reached for Zangetsu, unable to leave his zanpakutou simply sitting in the office, and followed after the other Shinigami. Who seemed awfully anxious for him to hurry. Was Renji really that bad?

He quickly summoned a Hell Butterfly as they walked, speaking a short message to Jyuushiro, asking if the man would be willing to take Syaoran and Kaien for the evening. And then sent another to Byakuya, the mere thought of his friend making him warm. He asked his friend to take Ryuu and Mikan. He had the feeling that this pregnancy wasn't going to be an in and out affair. Orihime had a flair for complicating matters.

He received an affirmative answer just as quickly, and relieved that his children were being cared for, Ichigo could now concentrate on helping his friends. He and the messenger arrived at the fourth division quickly enough, and the captain was taken to the west wing. The Shinigami bowed and excused himself as Ichigo stepped into the large and comfortable waiting room, casting his eyes around.

Immediately, he caught sight of Renji, pacing back and forth across the floor and muttering under his breath. Confused, Ichigo let the door close behind him and watched Renji's stride for a few moments more. When it became clear that the anxious man wasn't going to notice his presence, he spoke up.

"Why aren't you inside?" he asked, removing Zangetsu from his back and laying the sword in a nearby stand. His zanpakutou just barely fit in the small niche he noted with some amusement. But he didn't want to risk carrying it around if he was going to be anywhere near Orihime in the midst of her giving birth.

Renji jumped about two feet in the air at the sudden voice and whirled to face Ichigo. It took a moment for recognition to dawn as he let loose a muttered curse, raking a hand over his hair.

"It's just ya," he stated sourly and then resumed his pacing, ignoring Ichigo's amused and raised eyebrow. "They kick'd me out," he added on a mumble.

Blinking and trying to hold back his laughter before he upset Renji any further, Ichigo tracked his movements. "Why?" He felt he had a good guess as to the reason, however, judging from Renji's current and erratic behavior.

"Dunno. Isane jus' said ta leave, and I couldn't 'xactly argue 'gainst her." He paused with a faraway look in his eyes that hinted of discomfort and a small measure of fear. "She's worse tha' Unohana ever was."

His socked feet padded back and forth across the floor, and Ichigo was glad to notice that the rest of the waiting room was empty of other visitors. Otherwise, they might have been alarmed by an oblivious captain's unsettled demeanor. Renji hadn't even bothered to take off his haori or put Zabimaru in one of the many stands located around the room. And his reaitsu was fluctuating wildly.

"I told you that you had to leave because you were making everyone, including your wife, more tense," a feminine voice inserted. Isane appeared from one of the doorways and captured the attention of both males in the room.

Renji squared his shoulders, ceased his pacing, and drew to his full height. "I wasn't," he retorted defensively, trying to stare down the female captain.

The look she gave him in return was gleaned entirely from her former boss. "You _were_ ," Isane insisted, shifting position in the doorway and looking far more composed than the frantic husband. "And if you don't calm down, I will be forced to sedate you."

Renji's jaw dropped, and he stuttered some sort of argument. But Isane was no longer paying him any attention. Instead, she turned towards Ichigo, smile warming and tone losing the hard edge.

"Ah, Ichigo-kun, you're here. Thank you for coming."

"Well, I told Orihime I would," Ichigo answered, not really needing the appreciation. He didn't want to miss something as important as this. He deftly ignored the accusing and annoyed looks that Renji was shooting his direction.

Isane inclined her head. "I know. And I would appreciate your help in calming Renji-kun."

"Calmin' me down!?" Renji spluttered in the background, sounding two steps away from one of his usual loud outbursts.

A doctor's firm glare was thrown his direction. Renji quieted somewhat, muttering under his breath.

Trying his best not to laugh, Ichigo smirked. "Sure."

Her gaze flickering between them, Isane seemed satisfied. "If he quiets, he may return to the delivery room. If not, it is best he remains here."

With one last warning glance, she turned on her heels and headed back down the hall and undoubtedly to Orihime's room. Ichigo was rather impressed. Isane had delivered all four of his children, so he was certain that Orihime was going to be just fine. But one peek at Renji informed him that his friend was not of the same assurance.

He smirked, fully prepared to play his part of the encouraging friend and experienced father.

Renji was nearly the color of his hair from anger, but even Ichigo could see the worry beneath his expression. He wanted to be in the room, but undoubtedly, he had been hovering and in the way and demanding. Which had been no help at all.

"Relax," Ichigo stated and moved to one of the chairs in the room. "She'll be fine."

"I know that," Renji huffed and with a snort started his pacing all over again, moves agitated and jerky.

It was amusing and just a bit familiar. Ichigo had been just as agitated when Rukia had gone into labor with Kaien, though he had been less demonstrative about it. Isane certainly never had to threaten to sedate him.

"How long has she been in labor?"

The steps ceased for a moment as Renji contemplated the question, unable to worry, think, and pace all at the same time. "Since this mornin'. She woke me up sayin' somethin' 'bout leaky water and aliens tryin' to get through the petdoor." He picked up the pace again. "It's been a waitin' game since."

Ichigo chuckled to himself. That was just like Orihime.

"You have nothing to worry about then," he assured the soon-to-be father. "Rukia was in labor with the twins for eighteen hours."

"Yeah," came the distracted answer, and to Ichigo's relief, it appeared that Renji was calming soon. He seemed less twitchy than before.

"And Orihime's strong. She'll be just fine," Ichigo added for good measure.

Renji's hand ran through his hair again, dislodging the high ponytail and roughly yanking it out to redo the string. "I know." A small growl of frustration escaped as he worked the long strands back into the usual style.

It was easy to understand Renji's disquiet. He never liked being helpless, never liked feeling powerless. Yet, in this situation, there was nothing he could do for his wife but stand by and watch. He could support her and hold her hand, but he couldn't help the pain or help her with the delivery. That feeling of weakness had always been a downfall for him.

Sighing softly to himself, Ichigo searched his mind for something to abate Renji's worry. Inspiration struck him.

"You know," he began, a plan forming. "I'll bet she'd like that blanket Shuuhei made for when the baby comes."

Dark red eyes widened in understanding and realization, Ichigo's idea striking Renji as something he actually could do. Without so much as a thanks, Renji hurried from the room, relaxed now that he had a goal and a purpose.

Shaking his head, Ichigo rose from his chair and decided to sneak back towards Orihime's room. He wanted to see how she was doing, and unlike Renji, he could be calm and composed. He would be back in the waiting room by the time the red-haired man returned if necessary.

Besides, he had the feeling it was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Jyuu, did you want some popcorn?"

From his position on the couch, Jyuushiro shook his head. Then, realizing that his husband couldn't see it, he opted to answer aloud.

"No, thank you," he replied and looked at his two charges. "What about you?"

Kaien folded his arms over his chest and stared grumpily at the screen that had been a gift from the Kurosaki family a decade or so ago; it had been adapted to play movies from the living world by the twelfth division, one of Akon's more useful inventions. The young boy wasn't too happy at the moment, and Jyuushiro knew better than to press. He would let Kaien sulk for a while and then try conversation.

Syaoran, nestled next to Jyuushiro, smiled up at him. "I would please," she answered nicely.

He was unable to help the goofy smile in return, echoes of the little girl he and Izuru were trying to adopt in the back of his mind. "Syaoran would like some, however."

It was probably far too early for the children to be eating such snacks, but Jyuushiro didn't mind spoiling them just this once. They were going through a difficult time right now, after all. And with all the burdens on Ichigo at the moment, he was probably unable to spoil them as he usually would.

"Alright," came the response.

The door to the kitchen swung back shut as Izuru disappeared inside. While they had servants, Jyuushiro had discovered that more often than not, Izuru preferred to do some things by himself.

"Kaien, would you please put the movie in?" Jyuushiro requested, certain that Izuru wouldn't miss anything since the opening credits were usually pretty long.

The boy, despite his pouting, jerked his head into a nod and scurried to obey, finally showing some enthusiasm towards a movie both he and his sister had been wanting to see for some time. Smiling at his reaction, Jyuushiro shifted around to get comfortable on the couch while he waited for Izuru. A faint cough sounded from beside him.

Concerned, he looked down at Syaoran who was snuggling even closer than usual. "Are you sick, Syaoran?" he asked, one palm instantly reaching for her forehead in an age-old method of checking temperature.

She ever so subtly inched out of the touch. "I'm fine," she said with an almost wan smile. "I promise. I'm not sick."

He eyed her critically. "You wouldn't be saying that so you don't miss going to the park today, would you?"

Syaoran shook her head. "Nope. I don't feel sick at all, ojii-chan."

Though skeptical, he figured that if there was something seriously wrong with the child, she would say so. Besides, she only looked a little pale and tired. Perhaps some rest was all she needed.

"Popcorn's ready," Izuru called out cheerfully as he strode into the room, deftly carrying a bowl filled with the salty snack.

The opening strains of the movie began to play, probably a bit louder than it should have, as Izuru settled down on the other side of Syaoran. He arranged the bowl so that she could reach into it as well. When she immediately held out a hand to grab a few kernels, Izuru grinned. He could just imagine their own little Miharu enjoying it as well.

He looked up to meet the gaze of his husband and found the same fond look in dark eyes. They were both so excited about their soon-to-be daughter that it was understandable. And Izuru had the feeling she and Syaoran would get along just fine.

The sound of several coughs broke them from their goofy staring, and Jyuushiro's attention was again drawn towards Syaoran, who was very obviously trying to muffle the sound with her fingers. Her free hand still clutched the popcorn, which she hadn't even had chance to eat yet. Her little body was wracked with the force of the cough, and she was slowly doubling over.

Instantly, Jyuushiro was concerned. "Syaoran, sweetie, are you alright?"He turned towards Syaoran, laying a hand on her back and rubbing soothingly.

Izuru quickly wiped his hand on his pants and held it to her forehead, looking up at his husband in alarm. "She's burning up, Jyuu," he said as his other hand smoothed back her hair.

Syaoran shook her head under their touch and tried to straighten. "I'm fine," she insisted weakly, voice raspy from the force of her coughing.

"No, she's not," Kaien retorted, his attention detracted from the movie as he turned to look at his sister. Though he appeared annoyed, it was clear that he was worried. "She's been coughing real bad at night and hiding it."

"Kaien!" Syaoran cried, aghast. But then, her words degenerated into another fit. "You... weren't supposed to tell."

Izuru looked at his husband in concern and was alarmed to find the expression of sheer horror on Jyuushiro's face. He followed the other man's gaze, and a gasp escaped him. There, splattered over Syaoran's delicate fingers, was a fresh splash of bright blood.

"Kami," Jyuushiro whispered, fear warring with worry on his face. He had paled, fingers spasming before he scooped the feverish child into his arms. "We have to take her to the fourth." He was already rising to his feet as Syaoran continued to cough in his arms, emitting a low moan of pain as her chest ached.

Izuru nodded fiercely and stood, setting the bowl of popcorn aside. As Jyuushiro tended to Syaoran, murmuring words of encouragement and ignoring her claims of being fine, the blond turned off the screen and ushered Kaien into getting ready. A sense of hurried worry was in the air, and Izuru had to keep from biting his lip as he felt his husband's fear increase.

"Is Syaoran going to be alright?" Kaien asked, his expression showing an uncharacteristic sense of solemnity. It was clear that despite their rivalry he loved his sister.

Kneeling to help Kaien into his waraji, Izuru offered the boy a reassuring smile. "I'm sure it's nothing serious," he replied, hoping the same. "Don't worry. I know Isane-san will be able to treat her, and then, she'll be just fine."

"Izuru, we're leaving!" he heard his husband's slightly frantic voice call for him, likely from the front door.

Sliding into his own waraji with quick movements, Izuru smiled comfortingly once more and patted Kaien on the head. "Let's go," he suggested and guided the young boy forward with a palm to his upper back.

Kaien nodded, and they met up with Jyuushiro at the door before they of them hurried to the fourth division, worry increasing their pace to a near shunpo.

* * *

Ichigo was far more tired than he should have been, especially considering that the reason for his fatigue had nothing to do with his own troubles. But Orihime's labor had dragged on for hours the day prior, and he had been stuck at the fourth division until the early morning. She had been in labor for nearly thirty hours, a ridiculously long time. And like a good friend, he had remained to keep Renji calm and in control.

It had been amusing to see their son, a fact Renji was not disappointed by in the slightest. He had been ecstatic at the sight of the infant, though Ichigo took some humor in noting the crown of orange hair. A gift from his mother. As were the beautiful eyes, a soft dove grey.

Holding his son for the first name, Renji's eyes had lit up with the glow of a father, only to immediately scowl in Ichigo's direction. "My kid looks like you," he had muttered, though it was with affection.

Not to be cowed, Ichigo rolled his eyes and shot back just as teasingly, "Better than looking like you." But his counter had been ignored by the new father, whose attention was stolen by the quietly sleeping infant.

Shaking his head and leaving Renji to his wonder, Ichigo had stopped in to see Orihime. Remarkably perky considering the length of her labor, she had smiled at him and thanked him for coming. He had congratulated her, promised to let everyone else know, and then excused himself. The sun was just beginning to rise as he had trudged home and collapsed on his futon, content in the knowledge that those he trusted were taking care of his own children.

Watching Orihime and Renji together had been bittersweet. He could remember his own pride and happiness with Rukia when Kaien had been born. The joy of new parents, of holding their infant in their arms. Remarking at how small they were. How fragile and beautiful. Perfect in every way.

Rukia had been so exhausted after the first birth, body bathed in sweat, hair wet ringlets around her face. But she had been the most beautiful then, holding their son in her arms. Giving him that tired but exhilarated smile. He could remember her delicate fingers gently stroking the side of Kaien's face and the soft glint in her eyes.

The memories cropped up now that he was witnessing the same between Orihime and Renji. And it hurt, reminded him that he was no longer with Rukia, that he had made the conscious decision to let her go. It still tugged at his heart and clenched in his belly. But somehow... somehow, it was just a tad more bearable than before. The empty echoes weren't quite so loud in their silence. And Ichigo had a suspicion he knew why.

He wasn't entirely alone in this, and it was that knowledge that gave him strength.

Rolling his shoulders, Ichigo fought back a yawn and stepped into the outer office of the fifth's headquarters. Yumichika immediately looked up from where he sat at his desk, pretending to contemplate his paperwork. Ichigo knew when his vice-captain was working and when he wasn't. Not that it really bothered him since no matter what Yumichika's work was always completed on time.

"Good morning, Ichigo-kun," Yumichika said pleasantly as he rose to his feet.

Ichigo paused and purposefully glanced around, even flickering his gaze to the window where the sun was already nearing its zenith. "It's nearly noon," he retorted, just because he could.

A smile stole onto his vice-captain's face. "And here, I thought you couldn't tell time," Yumichika countered with a hint of teasing as he followed his captain into the office. "Considering you are several hours late with no explanation."

Shaking his head, Ichigo removed Zangetsu and put the zanpakutou in its stand before sitting at his desk with an audible sigh. "And here, _I_ thought you would have already been up to date on the latest gossip."

Yumichika waved a hand of dismissal. "I know. Little Abarai Shori was born early this morning. And Ichigo-oji-san just had to be present." He broke into a smile that was just shy of being goofy, an almost recollective look taking over his face.

Forcing himself to resist the urge to lay his head on his desk and go to sleep, Ichigo gestured vaguely towards his vice-captain. "Exactly. So let me know what I missed yesterday and this morning."

He idly cast a glance over the scattered papers, frowning at the lack of organization. In his hurry to leave yesterday, he had completely upset his carefully ordered stack. He would end up spending half the day searching for the more pressing documents.

Yumichika cast him a look that clearly stated just how much he was humoring his captain before diving into all the important and unimportant events that had cropped up in his short absence. To be expected, there was nothing pressing, and Ichigo only listened with half an ear. He could feel the fatigue tugging at him.

The sound of near frantic footsteps woke him from his lethargy, and Ichigo straightened as they headed his direction. Yumichika cut off mid-sentence as he turned to look at the door, which he had left open on purpose. Within seconds, Ukitake Jyuushiro was standing in the aperture, face pale and worried.

"Ichigo," he said, voice sharp and close to breathless. "I had thought you'd be at home."

The fifth-division captain frowned and sat up straight. "I had work that needed to be done." He eyed the man, hair in disarray and worry lines etched into his delicate features. A surge of apprehension tugged in his gut. "Is something wrong?"

Jyuushiro swallowed thickly before nodding. "I'm sorry," he began, though Ichigo wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. "Syaoran is sick. I had to take her to the fourth division."

"What?" Ichigo was on his feet in seconds, something painful clenching at his heart.

His daughter was sick? When had that happened? And why the hell hadn't he noticed?

A sense of shame crossed the older man's face. "She started coughing," Jyuushiro explained and watched as Ichigo hurried to grab his zanpakutou and prepared to leave the office. "And then… Kami, Ichigo, I'm so sorry. But she started coughing up blood."

Ichigo paused mid-reach, the reason for the multiple apologies coming to light. "Blood?" he repeated and felt all the color drain from his face. "Did she have a fever? Was she lethargic?"

The other captain nodded. "She was burning up. But she kept insisting she was fine."

Ichigo digested this, running through a catalogue of known illnesses that he had picked up from helping his father out at the clinic. Hell, it could be anything respiratory. Even something like a simple cold, he reminded himself. He needed to find rationality because it looked like Jyuushiro had long ago lost his.

He turned towards his subordinate. "Yumichika--"

"Go," Yumichika told him with a faint wave of his hand, concern darkening his own eyes. "I can handle things here. Your daughter needs you."

Ichigo was never more grateful for his vice-captain than he was in that moment. If it hadn't been for Yumichika, the fifth division would have fallen apart months ago, around the same time that his own life had.

He nodded his thanks and was out the door, Jyuushiro matching him step for step. A sense of hurry lightened his pace until he was very nearly in shunpo, despite the fact that the fourth division was just next door. He couldn't help the pounding of worry in his heart, and he immediately started grilling Jyuushiro for more details.

"What did Isane say?" Ichigo demanded, mind working in overdrive as it split between fear and dread.

He felt a little sick on the inside as well since he hadn't even noticed Syaoran was that ill. He had thought it was just fatigue brought about the recent circumstances. Had he been so wrapped up in his own pain that he hadn't even noticed his daughter's?

He really was a terrible father.

Beside him, steps equally hurried, Jyuushiro frowned. "A respiratory infection," the older man explained, though he sounded doubtful. "But she was coughing up blood, Ichigo..." His words trailed off, and it was clear that Jyuushiro was very upset.

Forcing himself to portray a calm he didn't feel, Ichigo tried to throw his mentor a reassuring glance. "You didn't do it," he insisted, knowing that it was that particular concern that was bothering Jyuushiro. "She didn't get sick because of you."

"You don't know that," Jyuushiro replied, utterly aghast and sounding near frustration. Hands clenched into fists at his side as he berated himself internally.

"I do," came the stern response, and Ichigo was never more glad to see the fourth division than he was at that very moment, the front gates coming into view. He stepped up the pace just a little. "It sounds like pneumonia, Jyuushiro. Or possibly bronchitis. If left untreated, it's not uncommon for either to result in coughing up blood."

He said it so simply and with a calm he didn't feel. His rapid-fire heartbeat and sharp, staccato steps betrayed his worry. And not even he could clamp down on the tendrils of concerned reiatsu that slipped out of him, rattling pictures on walls and giving passing Shinigami a shiver.

Forehead scrunched, Jyuushiro didn't look convinced, but he inclined his head in acceptance. Common illness or not, he knew he would never recover from the sight of Syaoran coughing up blood. The fear that had gripped his heart was unlike nothing he had ever experienced.

"Where's Kaien?" Ichigo asked as they threaded through the masses of the busy fourth division, Jyuushiro easily leading him towards Syaoran's room.

"He was upset," Jyuushiro explained, sympathetic to the young boy's reaction. "I had Izuru take him home with the idea of finding something for his sister, clothes and the like. I think being able to help calmed him down."

Ichigo wasn't surprised. Despite their arguments, the siblings were close and cared for each other. A small part of him eased at the knowledge that Kaien was fine, but he knew he wouldn't be completely relaxed until he could see his daughter.

Beside him, the older man sighed. "It didn't help that he worried it was his fault since he made Syaoran play in the rain with him and didn't tell anyone she was coughing."

Wincing, Ichigo inclined his head. The reminder of his own failure curled painfully in his gut. "I'll talk to him."

"It's probably a good idea."

Nothing more was said as they quickly made their way through the corridors. Within minutes, they found Syaoran's room, and Ichigo opened the door with nearly shaking hands. His first lay eyes on his daughter, her form seeming so small in the stark white of hospital sheets. She was asleep, breathing deep and even, but the moment they stepped into the room, she stirred.

She immediately noticed him, and her eyes lit up, though still ringed with fatigue. "Tou-chan," she murmured sleepily.

He was at her side in an instant, scooping Syaoran into his arms and smoothing down her back with his palm, barely noticing when Jyuushiro excused himself to find Isane. Ichigo knew he was probably crushing Syaoran against his chest, but he couldn't seem to loosen his hold. His children had been sick before with mild illnesses and the like but nothing that required a rapid trip to the fourth division. Nothing that was potentially this serious.

"Tou-chan, I'm fine," Syaoran said, her voice muffled by the layers of his shihakushou. Just like her mother, pretending to be fine when she wasn't.

Reluctantly, Ichigo pulled back and looked his daughter in the face. She was so pale, even more than her naturally light skin. And her eyes were ringed with black, drawn from exhaustion.

How had he not noticed?

"I'm sorry," Ichigo murmured, guilt clenching at his stomach. "I should have noticed. I was so worried when Jyuu-ojii-san came into my office."

She shook her head. "I didn't want you to know," she replied tiredly, a small cough escaping her as she carefully covered her mouth.

Ichigo was immediately relieved to note that there wasn't any blood.

"I didn't want to worry you," the little girl added.

"Sweetheart..." He sighed, carding his fingers through her hair and brushing it back from her face. She still felt warm to the touch, which might have had something to do with the blankets piled on top of her. "I wish you had told me."

"But you were already sad, and I didn't want to make it worse," she protested. And the look in her eyes, depicting her own worry for her father, nearly did him in.

He pulled her close again, wrapping her in his arms and murmuring apologies under his breath. He still didn't understand his children as well as he thought. They were far more perceptive than he gave them credit. And they thought themselves far too grown.

Pressing a kiss to her head, Ichigo drew back and looked her in the eyes, hands gently cupping her face. "Don't hide something like this from me again," he asked softly and allowed his concern show in his voice. "It hurts me more to see you here."

She nodded, her eyes beginning to sheen over with tears. "I'm sorry," Syaoran rasped, her voice rough from constant coughing and sickness. "I just didn't want--"

He didn't let her finish whatever she was going to say, shushing her instead. Situating himself more comfortably on the bed, he pulled his daughter into his arms and stroked her hair. The nagging sense of worry and fear slowly ebbed as she calmed in his hold, even lulling enough to return to rest, which she needed a lot of now.

He stayed at the fourth for the rest of the night, watching over his daughter and wishing he had the power to cure her immediately. Even with kidoh and Isane's abilities, she would still need to remain in the hospital long enough to ensure she was fully cured.

Ichigo never remembered the papers lying forgotten on his desk, signed but not delivered, and eventually buried beneath copious other stacks.

* * *

 


	20. Of Reconciliation

After living next door to the clinic for his entire life before moving to Soul Society, Ichigo figured he should have been used to the sounds of a hospital. To the rush of healers beyond the room, the beeping of equipment, and the odd quiet within every occupied or unoccupied room. He should be used to the astringent odor, the unnecessarily bright lights, and the cloud of worry that hung like a bad stench in the atmosphere.

But things that he should have been used to were a lot different when his children were involved. Even though he knew Syaoran was eventually going to recover, he still worried. And he still sat at his daughter's bedside, watching her sleep peacefully, breathing even and strong. The guilt tugged at him again, and he felt the urge to berate himself, though he kept quiet to keep from waking her.

He really was a terrible father. He had spent most of the past several days in the fourth division, staying at Syaoran's side whenever possible. And if he wasn't there, then Jyuushiro or Izuru or someone important to her was. He refused to let his daughter stay there alone.

Ichigo's gaze traveled to the other bed in the room, where Kaien was sprawled across the mattress and snoring softly. His son was half-buried under his covers, one leg stuck out over the side. Shaking his head, Ichigo rose to his feet and situated Kaien more comfortably, a small noise of protest escaping the young boy before he fell back into slumber.

His lips tugging into a faint smile, Ichigo affectionately brushed his fingers over sleep-tousled black hair. Kaien didn't stir, already lost to the depths of slumber. A noise in the doorway disturbed him from contemplations that were begging to begin, and Ichigo glanced over his shoulder. He caught sight of Byakuya standing there, a question on his face.

The noble had been caring for the twins since Ichigo had asked him to all those days ago, and while he'd had some occasion to see Syaoran in the fourth, he'd been more than busy picking up some of the slack that Ichigo had dropped to be there for his daughter. Which included helping Yumichika if Ichigo's vice-captain needed it.

With those eyes on him, Ichigo turned away from Kaien and walked silently to the door. Understanding passed between the two men and they met in the hallway, just outside the room. Voices were kept low in hopes to not wake the children.

"How is she doing?" Byakuya asked, his first question full of concern for his niece. His gaze lingered towards the room, worry reflected.

He had been watching Ichigo for longer than it had seemed and had only made the faint noise to attract the other captain's attention. Worry for Syaoran had intermingled with worry for Ichigo, until Byakuya's own insides felt as though they were twisting into knots. He was relieved to see that she seemed to be recovering, though the pain in her father's expression was unsettling.

Ichigo sighed. And the bevy of emotion in that simple sound made Byakuya's own heart clench.

"She's going to be here for at least a week. Isane doesn't want to risk her having a relapse. But other than that, Syaoran will be just fine. No thanks to me."

Grey eyes shifted back to the younger man. "Ichigo--"

He was interrupted by Ichigo shaking his head negatively. "I didn't notice that my little girl was getting sick, Byakuya. Don't try to tell me it's not my fault." He sagged against the doorframe, the fatigue lining his eyes suddenly looking that much deeper.

The urge to embrace Ichigo rose up strongly then as he looked in desperate need of comfort. But Byakuya hesitated. They were in the hallway of the busy fourth division where anyone and everyone would be watching, and Byakuya didn't want Ichigo to suffer from more damaging rumors. Not to mention they hadn't discussed their relationship, and he didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

What would he have done before his revelation? Byakuya never had been that good at comforting. Words always failed him and kept others at arm's length, prevented physical actions.

"Then… I won't," Byakuya responded quietly. "But I do think it would be better if you were strong for her rather than blaming yourself. She was only trying to protect you."

"She's too young to think about protecting anyone," Ichigo muttered, head turned back towards the room. "Much less her own father."

"She is a Kurosaki. It is only to be expected." He felt his lips lift in a small smile. "They do have the habit of being stubborn."

The pulse of guilt and concern in Ichigo's reiatsu lessened as he shifted his gaze towards Byakuya, suddenly pinning the noble with knowing eyes. "Sometimes a bit too hard-headed, ne?"

He was rewarded by an ever-so-subtle flush to Byakuya's cheeks. It was something no one else but he would have noticed, having become well-learned in the art of Byakuya-reading.

"Yes, sometimes," the older captain agreed, and the knowledge of their new realizations simmered the air between them.

Ichigo was well aware that they hadn't had chance to sit and discuss what had been discovered. That he hadn't had opportunity to ask Byakuya what he wanted or to explain that he didn't quite know what he wanted either. Ichigo knew that he had the urge to kiss Byakuya every chance he saw him, and that he still felt comfortable in the other man's presence. But Ichigo was also aware that he had just emerged from a difficult separation where feelings were still lingering for his wife. And he couldn't just throw at his children a new parent, even if they were used to their Byakuya-oji-san's presence.

Clearing his throat, Ichigo shifted his thoughts. "Where are the twins?" he asked, a logical question considering he knew Byakuya had been caring for them last.

"Tohru has them for now. I wanted to see Syaoran."

Relieved though he hadn't been too concerned to begin with since he trusted Byakuya, Ichigo managed a light grin. The pair of them entered the little girl's room, sitting on either side of her sleeping form.

"She'll be happy that you visited," Ichigo said in a soft tone, a hint of teasing creeping into his voice. "I know how much she idolizes her Byakuya-oji-san."

Seeming to catch onto the usual banter between them, a sparkle of humor danced in his eyes. "That is because she plans to be my heir," he replied, and if it was just a bit smugly, both men noticed.

Ichigo chuckled, careful not to wake his daughter as he rolled his eyes. "Tell a little girl that she can be a princess, and she'll agree to do anything, you manipulator."

"The Kuchiki have no need to manipulate. Others are simply naturally inclined to accept our suggestions," Byakuya countered and lifted his head primly in a motion that was definitely familiar to Ichigo.

He pointed a finger Byakuya's direction. "And that's where she gets it from," he decided, gesturing towards the expression on the noble's face. "All that uppity-ness is from you."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," Byakuya responded, but not even he could hide the twitching of his lips in amusement.

It felt just like old times.

Ichigo snorted and cast him a disbelieving look. "She's already bugging me about damn expensive scarves. Next thing I know, she'll want Senbonzakura to go with it."

"Syaoran would wield her beautifully," Byakuya replied, half-imagining his niece doing just so.

She hadn't expressed interest in becoming a Shinigami, but with her flourishing reiatsu, Byakuya wouldn't entirely put it past her. And one of his scarves would look rather lovely on her as well. He had to admit, if to himself only, she was picking up on most of his habits; he couldn't help but find it flattering and endearing.

"She would," Ichigo grudgingly admitted, fingers idly shifting the blanket over Syaoran's sleeping form just to give his hands something to do. "But I'm not going to let her decide just yet."

He wasn't even sure he was ready to let Kaien commit to being a Shinigami, much less Syaoran. There was too much about that life he didn't feel comfortable revealing to his children. Thoughts of the war circulated briefly in his head, the battles he had fought and the pain he had suffered. Not to mention the friends he had lost.

No, Ichigo really didn't want any of his children to become Shinigami. But he also knew that to deny them their wishes wouldn't make them happy either.

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them where everything seemed normal. The sense of anticipation and uncertainty that had been growing between them since their encounter seemed to melt away in the face of familiarity. All those questions of what to do now and how they should act disappeared as the realization that their behavior didn't really need to change surfaced.

And then, Byakuya drew in a quiet breath. "We have to talk, Ichigo," he said simply and forced himself not to fidget.

Just like that, the ease crept back towards tension, but more of uncertainty rather than discomfort. Friendship was easy to continue, something more in the face of what had happened to inspire their revelations wasn't quite as effortless.

"That never fails to sound ominous," Ichigo muttered with a faint chuckle in return. "I know. There just hasn't been the time." His shifted his gaze to Byakuya and felt that usual stirring of warmth inside of him.

"I'm not pushing for anything," the Kuchiki noble felt he had to clarify in a quiet voice, which was very nearly embarrassed. It was almost _cute_. "But I am still here, and I will continue to be."

The fifth-division captain felt the emotion flood through him and had to force himself to resist the urge to embrace Byakuya. He thrived on those words, the reassurance that Byakuya was offering him.

Ichigo's lips tilted towards a smile, inwardly almost wishing that Byakuya would push just a little. He brushed a hand over Syaoran's hair as warmth spread through his belly. She made a soft growl in the back of her throat, that probably would have been a whine if it weren't already so irritated, but didn't wake.

"I… Thank you. Really," Ichigo added sincerely. "I don't think that I thank you enough for what you've done. Helping me like you have. With the kids. With Rukia. With everything. I… It means a lot to me."

Somehow, the words seemed inadequate. And he wasn't even sure why he felt he had to blurt them out in that disorganized fashion right then and there. But Byakuya merely nodded and understood anyways, eyes brightening to a light silver color. There was something in his body language, in how relaxed and open he was. In the way he wasn't blank-faced or distant.

The two sat in silence for a moment and simply looked at one another over the sleeping girl between them. However, Ichigo finally opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Despite the sincerity of the words, they did indeed have the capacity to disturb the atmosphere between Ichigo and Byakuya. The two men turned as one to see Rukia in the doorway, her eyes shadowed with sorrow and the smile on her face equally sad and fatigued.

Her weariness, however, had nothing to do with the stress she was under but the rigors of long hours spent in reconnaissance for the odd Hollows Ichigo remembered being discussed at one of the meetings. She seemed in need of a good, warm meal and a comfortable bed for the night, not to mention a good change of clothes. But the concern in her eyes proved that she was going nowhere, at least not until seeing her daughter.

Byakuya shook his head in response, inadvertently breaking the strange thread that had begun to thrive between Ichigo and him. "Not at all," he stated smoothly, knowing the former husband and wife would probably like to speak to each other privately.

It said much that he was willing to leave them alone and trusting that Rukia would not dare strike him. In fact, he wanted to believe that she wouldn't ever again. The sincerity in her voice and words when they had talked had been reassuring.

He shifted his gaze to Ichigo briefly. "I have a few things that require my attention, but I will return," he informed the younger captain before returning his attention to his sister. "I'm glad to see that you are doing well, Rukia. I hope we can share a cup of tea before you return to your patrols."

Her smile lost a touch of its sadness, holding a glimmer of her former self. "Of course, nii-sama," she responded, and it was without that awkwardness that had been prevalent at their last meeting.

Dipping his head, Byakuya politely excused himself and left them to their business. He could tell by the look on Ichigo's face that he was thankful Byakuya had done so and without asking to stay behind for chaperone.

Dark blue eyes watched Byakuya's exit. "Still so formal," she murmured, almost wistfully. "And I would have thought he'd lose that by now." She entered the room fully but didn't take a seat.

"Why is that?" Ichigo asked, though he had the sneaking suspicion that he already knew what she meant.

Rukia gave him a look from the corner of her eyes. "Come on, Ichigo. Don't take me for a fool."

He flushed and conceded her point. "It was not something easily admitted," Ichigo acknowledged. One hand raked through his hair, messing up already disarrayed strands. "And I'm not jumping into anything. That wouldn't be fair to you."

A short, bitter laugh escaped Rukia's lips, but it was directed at herself. "It hasn't been from the beginning. I've come to realize that." Her eyes slid past him to where Kaien's soft snoring could still be heard. "I won't begrudge you happiness. You deserve it."

A heavy silence settled between them at her admission, filled with dense truths.

Ichigo straightened and dropped his arms to his sides. "I was happy with you," he said quietly, taking in her profile and the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with.

The place she had taken in his heart was still present, though not quite as consuming as it had been before. He did know, however, that it would never completely vanish either. He never thought it was possible to love more than one person before, but he had been wrong. And it was strange. Where his heart had once felt torn in two, pulling two ways at the same time, it now seemed to be settling in one direction alone.

"And it's not like I've stopped caring for you," he continued, wanting to explain himself without making it seem like his feelings were that easily changed. "I was simply tired of waiting."

"I know." Rukia sighed, and it was just this side of defeated. "But I couldn't be with you while understanding that a part of you, even if you didn't realize it, yearned for someone else."

The words fell between them and inspired another moment of silent contemplation as Ichigo absorbed her meaning. She had a point. But he also knew that if the abuse had never come between them, then he would have been perfectly content with Rukia for the rest of this life. He would have never given name to the strange feelings between he and Byakuya and would not have made the choices he was currently making. His love for her had never been contrived.

Ichigo shifted. "I don't want you disappear from my – from _their –_ life," he insisted, capturing her attention. "They still need their mother."

"And I'll still be there for them," Rukia answered as she rubbed her hands over her arms as though she were suddenly struck with a cold chill. "Nothing could stop me from being with my children. But it hurts too much right now. That's why I took this patrol."

He inclined his head. "I understand."

Ichigo had figured as much. He knew there had to be another purpose behind her decision other than a sudden, burning desire to take down strange Hollows. But Rukia fell silent then, lost to her own thoughts. Lost to the past most likely, their past and her own. The emotions flitting across her expression ran too quickly for Ichigo to interpret.

He looked at her again, taking in the curve of her face, the shade of her eyes. It still hurt to see her within touching distance but no longer able to pull into his arms. But honestly, it had been like that before they decided to separate; she had gradually pulled away every time he tried to restore what their relationship had once been like. Ichigo could understand her reasoning now, but that didn't make the pain he had felt then any easier to handle.

Still, he looked at her now with new eyes and new emotions and found that it wasn't as hard as it had been. The pain was still present, the clenching of his heart and the sense of fight left in him, but it was more bearable now. It was something that thought itself daring to heal, though it would always leave a scar.

He didn't want her to vanish from his life.

"Rukia."

Her gaze went back to him, eyes bright and a bit less haunted then they were before. "Yes?"

Ichigo took a breath. "Despite everything, I think we could find some way to be friends again. You're still important to me."

He watched as her lips pulled into a small smile, just an echo of the one he had grown used to seeing over the years. "I'd like that," she responded sincerely. "Very much."

Relief swept through Ichigo, who hadn't wanted to lose someone dear to him. He was able to return his ex-wife's shaky smile with one of his own, and the tension simmering between them dropped to near nothing. Though they would always have circumstance in their way, there was a still chance for friendship to remain. And that was the best Ichigo could ask for.

Uncertainty pretty much abolished, the conversation shifted as Rukia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you for the message about Syaoran. I wish I could have gotten here sooner."

"I debated about letting you know," Ichigo admitted, remembering the minutes he had spent contemplating the decision. "I didn't want you to worry. But then, I knew you would be upset if you hadn't been told."

Rukia inclined her head and moved her regard back to her children. "I'm missing so much of their life," she murmured, forehead pinching in regret. "But that's really my own fault, isn't it?"

He didn't dare comment on her statement because Ichigo didn't know what he could say.

However, at that moment, one of the lower Shinigami from the fourth division approached and stepped passed the room. Ichigo and Rukia instantly clammed up as they waited for the girl to go by, clearly distracted by the papers in her hands. Both waited until her footsteps were long gone before continuing the conversation, the reprieve granting Ichigo enough time to plan his response.

"Syaoran and Kaien only want to see their mother." Ichigo gathered Rukia's attention back towards himself. "Nothing else that might have happened matters to them."

Rukia grinned at the thought of her children, the light joy enough to release some of the harsh lines around her eyes and mouth. "Then, I would like to visit with Syaoran." She gestured towards her daughter. "I left my unit unsupervised, which is never a wise thing when the closest Shinigami to leadership they have is Sentarou."

Ichigo chuckled as he rose to his feet, the mattress giving a shift and creak for his motion in protest. "It could've been worse."

"Oh?" One brow arched in a familiar manner.

"You could have left them with both Kiyone and Sentarou," he pointed out and thought of the two third-seats who had never ceased their bickering though decades had passed. He honestly didn't think they ever would.

Rukia rolled her eyes and smiled, something genuinely amused this time. "Oh, the horror," she agreed teasingly.

A moment of ease passed between them and Rukia looked at her soon-to-be-former husband. Words danced on the tip of her tongue, and she opened her mouth to say them, but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead, she simply shook her head.

"Thank you, Ichigo," Rukia murmured.

He nodded. "Try and see the twins before you leave again," Ichigo suggested as he stepped towards the hallway. "I don't want them to forget you."

She smiled again. "I will," Rukia promised before her attention was stolen by attempting to wake her sleeping daughter.

He turned to watch her from the doorway for several long seconds, wondering just what she had thanked him for. He had done nothing to deserve her gratitude.

She carefully lowered herself to sit at Syaoran's bedside. Rukia lifted a hand and gently brushed back the dark hair from her daughter's face, though it was with significantly more intent than the barely present touch Ichigo had used earlier. Syaoran stirred at the soft touch and woke slowly, eyes fluttering open. The very instant she laid them on her mother, her lips parted into a wide and goofy smile. Like the child she was, her arms were held out for a hug, far too weary to throw herself at her mother.

Smiling a little himself, Ichigo turned away from the door. He had every intention of seeking out a warm cup of tea and possibly composing a quick Hell Butterfly to Yumichika to see how his division was doing. He figured that would be enough time for Rukia to spend with her children before he returned.

It seemed like things were finally getting better.

* * *

Perfectly placed to see into Syaoran's room, Byakuya had been watching, the former couple oblivious to his presence. It helped that he was trying to appear as if he weren't doing so, pretending to be completely engrossed in the large poster covering the wall. It wasn't proper for a Kuchiki to be skulking and eavesdropping like some low-mannered ruffian or Renji. But Byakuya seemingly couldn't help himself.

Grey eyes had continued to watch the couple talk, the distance too great for him to pick up on any of the conversation.

"Is that a hint of jealousy I sense in my kouhai?"

To Byakuya's credit, he somehow managed not to outwardly display his surprise with an undignified jump. Instead, he gave a restrained turn to regard the new arrival. He found Jyuushiro standing behind him, a faintly amused smile twitching at his lips.

He gathered his pride and pretended like he hadn't been caught peeking on Ichigo and Rukia. "I don't know what you mean," Byakuya stated defensively.

Jyuushiro arched one white brow. "Eavesdropping and spying are new talents of the House of Kuchiki then? I shall have to let the second division know."

"I didn't want to interrupt," he explained and rather lamely at that, and carefully leaving out mention that he had already been present once before. To his horror, he felt the beginning of a blush creep onto his face. Still, Byakuya managed to square his shoulders with dignity.

He knew it was just an excuse and a thin one at best. Even he could tell that his senpai didn't entirely believe him, if at all. Especially considering the growing bemusement that had taken over Jyuushiro's expression.

Byakuya decided it would be better if he quickly changed the subject.

"How are you doing?"

The older man chuckled softly, the sound carrying no further than their own words, which were little more than hushed. "In other words, am I no longer frantic that I had somehow infected Syaoran with my illness?"

"In other words," Byakuya agreed as he inclined his head.

Jyuushiro grinned. "I am composed. Isane explained everything and even a part of me knew that I wasn't contagious, but still…" he trailed off and paused, a faraway look taking over his dark eyes. "When she started coughing blood, my heart stopped. I'd never been able to forgive myself if it had been my fault."

"Ichigo wouldn't have blamed you," Byakuya responded quietly, and it almost shocked him how he could say that with such certainty. But he was grudgingly admitting to himself just how well he understood his best friend.

"I know, but I would have blamed myself," Jyuushiro returned, briefly recalling the horror he had felt and the helplessness that had taken over him. His lungs threatened to clench in sympathy, but he fought down the urge.

Byakuya believed his senpai entirely, knowing that Jyuushiro was just the sort of man to do something like that. His attention was then grabbed by Ichigo and Rukia again as they continued to speak and even he could tell that the tension between them had lessened further. They were smiling, even Ichigo, who Byakuya had seen nothing but stress and sorrow the past few months. It tugged something inside of his heart that he refused to name just yet.

From his position, Jyuushiro watched Ichigo and his kouhai from the corner of his eyes with a knowing gaze. "He smiles like that for you, too," Jyuushiro commented, able to guess the root of the emotions flickering across Byakuya's face.

Byakuya stiffened minutely at being caught but then allowed himself to nod slowly. "I know," he replied very softly.

"Ichigo told me what happened," Jyuushiro continued, not surprising Byakuya in the slightest with that information. "Have you managed to talk to him yet?"

The Kuchiki noble shook his head. "No. There hasn't really been opportunity."

He said that, but even then, it felt like an excuse. That brief conversation inside of Syaoran's room had been a prelude, and all he had done was offer reassurance. And any moment before then, there had been distractions. The children needed something. Their divisions needed something. And perhaps there was a touch of avoidance between the two of them, each uncertain as to they should be acting from that moment on.

Jyuushiro sighed, but it was more affection then annoyance. "Between the two of you, I don't know who is more stubborn. If this were anything else, I would have already expected Ichigo to make the first move." He paused, as if hesitating, before continuing, "But he won't so long as he thinks he's going to hurt anyone."

Grey eyes fell to the floor, contemplating his senpai's meaning. Ichigo was far too self-sacrificing for his own good. And he had always been like that, putting others before himself, content so long as he was protecting those that meant the most to him. And once a person had his loyalty, they were hard pressed to lose it.

He wondered if that were Jyuushiro's own half-subtle way of telling him that he needed the distance. And then, Byakuya wondered just what was holding him back from doing it himself. Were all of the reasons he had behind his actions just excuses to hide the deeper emotions burbling inside of him? One that suspiciously resembled fear?

He could feel Jyuushiro's eyes on him, still so piercing even after all these years. "He won't reject you," the older captain added knowingly, as if he had sensed Byakuya's internal dilemma.

He closed his eyes as he absorbed the statement, telling himself that it wasn't fear. But Senbonzakura's whispers filtered to the front of his mind as well, gently accusing him. She had claimed he was afraid because he didn't want to be hurt again. He didn't want a repeat of what he had felt for Hisana, an emotion that had become so bittersweet.

But Ichigo wasn't Hisana, and nothing in the man's demeanor even hinted that he could be like her. He wouldn't pretend for the sake of sparing him heartache or be so cold. No, even an emotionally stunted man as Byakuya could see the affection that Ichigo held for him. And whenever he thought of it, there was an answering surge of affection inside of himself.

What then was he so terrified of losing?

"I didn't think that he would," Byakuya finally responded as he ignored the faint embarrassment in discussing his love life with Ukitake Jyuushiro in the middle of the fourth division.

His companion made a noncommittal sound in his throat and then decided to take pity on the younger man by switching topics. "Have you heard anything from the Kuchiki elders?"

"They have requested a meeting, which I have been ignoring in favor of caring for the twins." Byakuya's face twitched in a manner that on anyone else would have fully expressed his distaste. As it were, his eyes only briefly narrowed.

The other man frowned. "Is that wise?"

"Probably not," he admitted, thoughts of the elders filling his mouth with a bad taste for all the pompousness he would have to pretend and accept. "Yet, I do not want to hear their same blather. Nothing is going to change my mind on the matter of Rukia, nor will I be accepting whichever marriage proposal they are offering this time."

Jyuushiro chuckled. "It seems that the Kuchiki elders are of the few that never witnessed the affections you actually carry."

Despite his seniority, Byakuya cast the other man a glare of frosty annoyance. "I doubt they would have had chance to," he countered dryly. "Grandmother has been most insistent as well. I will only be able to hold out for a few more days before she comes herself, and then, I cannot turn her away."

"How disappointed they will be when they find out you won't be producing them any heirs," Jyuushiro remarked with amusement.

Byakuya failed to catch onto the humor, eyes returning to the former couple just down the hall. "I've yet to decide if my current mantle is a gift or a curse. I am not sure I would want to pass this headache onto my child for any reason."

His gaze caught movement within the room, Ichigo rising to his feet. Realizing that the other man was probably getting ready to leave and would notice the audience, Byakuya abruptly turned away from the doorway. Luckily, Jyuushiro noticed as well and joined him as they headed down the hall at a pace that was far from dignified.

"Why don't you join me for tea?" Byakuya suggested, doing his best to pretend he hadn't been spying on his best friend. "You came to see Syaoran, didn't you?"

"Among other things, yes," Jyuushiro returned, and there was a hint of slyness in his voice. "I also wanted to ask Ichigo what he was going to do for Syaoran's birthday in a couple of days."

Byakuya winced at the reminder, having nearly forgotten in the hustle and worry over her health. "She was looking forward to a large party, but I don't think she's well enough for that. He will probably go for something small with immediate friends and family since they'll have to come here."

The other man nodded sympathetically. "That's for the best," Jyuushiro agreed. "We'll just have to make sure that it's properly celebrated next year."

"Of course." Byakuya paused, his thoughts choosing to shift in another unrelated direction, though seeing Rukia probably had something to do with it. "How are the patrols going, by the way? I haven't heard anything about the strange Hollows since the captain's meeting."

A frown marred the white-haired man's face, one of disappointment and perhaps a hint of aggravation. "Despite all the prior sightings, we haven't managed to see one yet. I don't know if they're hiding or something else entirely. I'm half-afraid to find out."

"It does seem worrisome." Byakuya sighed. "Perhaps we should assign more than one division to the patrols?"

"I was considering mentioning that to Genryuusai-sensei at the next meeting," Jyuushiro admitted, "but I also don't want to make a snap judgment. It could be that I'm creating something out of nothing."

Byakuya furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "And what does Rukia suggest?"

"She feels there is something out there. She simply can't find it." He exhaled slowly, tucking his arms into the sleeves of his shihakushou. "It is making her unit very edgy."

His captain's intuition was already churning around the details and putting his own opinion into the situation. "I trust in my sister's instincts." Byakuya inclined his head.

Jyuushiro smiled, a touch of affection for his vice-captain entering his tone. "As do I." He waved a hand dismissively. "But enough about work. Let's get some tea. And perhaps a snack."

Despite himself, Byakuya chuckled, well aware of his senpai's appetite. "Of course," he agreed.

* * *

 


	21. Loss

Rukia slipped out of shunpo and came to a grinding halt on the dry, rocky ground, bits of stone crumbling beneath her. One hand on her zanpakutou, she hastily scanned the area, the familiar sound of her subordinates coming to a stop behind her as well. A chill wind buffeted the top of the high bluff where they stood, causing her hair to whip around her face. She scarcely noticed.

Every sense within her was tense with anticipation. There was something out there; she was certain of it. She nor anyone else in her unit had yet to set eyes upon it though. Aizen's creation, for she was certain that was its identity, was eerily adept at hiding its reiatsu. Much like all the other freak Hollows that had been popping up recently.

She asked herself not for the first time if volunteering for these patrols had been a good idea. Sure the opportunity to blow off some steam and escape from the pressure of circumstance in Soul Society was not to be overlooked. But the odd and lingering Hollows from Aizen's experiments were the furthest thing from fun to fight, and constant vigilance was beginning to take its toll on her.

"Kurosaki-fukutaichou?"

Rukia didn't bother to correct him. They would all learn soon enough that she was simply Kuchiki-fukutaichou now. She could no longer lay claim to her husband.

"Yes?" Never taking her hand of Sode no Shirayuki, she turned towards the Shinigami had spoken. It was her seventh-seat, a young man by the name of Kyuuki.

"Is it out there?"

She shook her head, returning to scanning the area. "I can't be sure. Tell everyone to be on full alert." Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her zanpakutou, every sense screaming to be wary and danger. "It's somewhere."

No sooner had the words left her mouth then did she feel a surge of reiatsu spike to the northeast, just past a cropping of boulders. Judging from the reactions of her subordinates, they felt it, too. How could they not? It was strong enough that it was just shy of the weakest Espada. That feeling of uncertainty grew.

"Sentarou-sanseki."

The third-seat snapped up beside her with an unnecessarily stiff salute. "Hai?"

"Take three or four and see if you can get a better sight on the Hollow. The rest of us will head straight in." Her mouth tightened into a grim line. "Undoubtedly, Akon-taichou will want some information on this thing before we kill it."

"Hai!" With another sharp salute, Sentarou gestured to three of the nearest Shinigami, and they were off in short leaps towards the burst of reiatsu.

Rukia remained another moment longer, eyes narrowing as she scanned the landscape. Behind her, the rest of her unit shifted restlessly, their nerves on edge as well. Sode no Shirayuki whispered warnings in her mind. She didn't much like the feeling to this reiatsu or situation either.

Nodding to herself, Rukia was about to turn and gesture the rest of her team towards the unconfirmed Hollow, when the reiatsu abruptly vanished. As if it had been destroyed already or it had cut off its own spirit pressure.

"What's going on?" one of the men behind her asked.

"I don't--"

Her answer cut off just as quickly as another burst of reiatsu appeared, this time to the northwest. The Hollow was on the move. A quick glance proved that Sentarou and his team were already shifting their position. The uncertain knot in Rukia's gut tightened.

"Follow me," she ordered in a clipped tone. "You three, be prepared with kidoh. You four, zanpakutou at the ready."

"Yes, Kurosaki-fukutaichou!"

She winced and again didn't bother to correct them. Eyes locked on the last place she had registered the reiatsu, Rukia jumped down and gave chase. The sound of other footsteps just as quick followed her immediately.

No sooner had she started towards the northwest then it did the same thing happen again. The reiatsu vanished and then reappeared. This time to the direct west, just below the falling sun. And it was closer this time. The movement pattern seemed strangely familiar, and Rukia's brow furrowed as she scanned her memory.

The Hollow was moving faster now, reiatsu flashing in short and peppered bursts. To the west. To the north. To the east. To the south. Back to the west. Around and around, as though it were circling, just playing with them. Or setting a trap.

Realization dawned, and Rukia ground to a halt, fear trying to make a place within her. "It's a skipper!" she called out, the oppressive feeling of danger practically screaming through her senses. "It could be anywhere!" Sode no Shirayuki was in her hands within seconds, the sword practically simmering with tension.

Her unit at varying lengths behind her followed her example. There was a long tense second where nothing moved but a breath of wind. She could see Sentarou, just as confused as she, and making his way back towards their squad. But she felt nothing of the Hollow.

Behind her, someone screamed in tandem with the sudden surge of reiatsu, blanketing and paralyzing as it fell over their entire unit. Rukia was the least affected of them, though it managed to steal her breath for a moment. Her eyes widened at the sight of the ugly Hollow as its crab-like pincers speared one of her subordinates, blood splashing cerise onto the ground.

Rukia had never seen this type of Hollow herself before, code-named Skipper because that was its behavior, but she had heard of them. They had enough intelligence to control their reiatsu, releasing and tightening it to confuse the Shinigami. Not to mention the ability to leave little reiatsu "drops" to further confound any pursuers. They had the nasty habit of leading the Shinigami on wild chases and then drawing them into a trap.

This thing standing less than twenty feet from her with its tall body and gangly limbs was not the most horrific Hollow she had seen. But for its ability, it was still a creature to behold.

Horrified by the fate of her subordinate, Rukia forced herself into action, barking out orders as she moved. Kidoh sparked to her fingertips and a high-powered _byakurai_ was flying through the air. The spell crackled and grew in power as it exploded against the side of the Hollow with enough force to make it stumble. The Hollow roared that terrible sound she had long grown to hate, and its head swung towards her. The kidoh had done little harm.

Not to be discouraged, Rukia firmed her lips and leapt into battle. " _Mai,_ Sode no Shirayuki!" she called, the edges of frost creeping to her fingertips as her zanpakutou bled white, surging into shikai.

Without giving the Hollow chance to attack another of her subordinates, who were wisely backing away from the huge creature, she summoned the first dance. At the beginning surge of reiatsu and accompanying ice, Rukia felt a smirk touch her lips. As the Hollow tossed aside the body of the Shinigami it had slain to be caught by another one of her subordinates, Rukia enveloped it in the consuming snow of the first dance.

" _Some no mai, tsukishiro!_ "

A circle appeared beneath the Hollow and surrounded it in a pale light. It roared in disinterest, one hand swinging out wildly. Mid-air as she was, Rukia couldn't avoid the hit easily and the back of the claw caught her arm. She absorbed the blow and let herself fall back to the ground, though she didn't stop the release of her zanpakutou. Blood streamed freely from the wound, and her grip loosened momentarily.

Rukia heard the crackling of ice, the faint sound it made as it crept up the Hollow's body and encased the creature in a layer of frost. It went utterly still, and with a flick of her wrist, the ice exploded outwards, the Hollow disintegrating to thin air.

A frown pinching her lips, Rukia lowered her zanpakutou and carefully inspected the wound on her arm. It wasn't anything serious luckily. A small kidoh would fix it in no time. The sound of feet alerted her to the approach of her unit, including Sentarou and his small team. She turned to greet them, only to freeze in absolute shock when multiple bursts of reiatsu began to spike all around them. One, three, and then six flares of spirit pressure of equal power to the previous one.

"Kyuuki, send a message to Ukitake-taichou," she quickly ordered, gaze flickering round and round in hope to catch a glimpse of the Hollows that had surrounded them. "We need reinforcements and as soon as possible!"

"Hai!"

"The rest of you stick together," she commanded and watched as they drew into a circle, hands nervously on zanpakutou, though they were resolute. "Concentrate your forces on each one at a time."

The landscape shimmered around them like the air above asphalt in the middle of summer before the Hollow appeared. They were the same ugly creatures as before, and Rukia clenched her jaw, the uncertainty in her gut finally holding name. Without allowing herself to worry or even really think, she dove into battle, the second dance on her lips.

Darting around the nearest Hollow, she slipped around its back and slashed viciously. It reared back and roared, turning to take a swipe at her. She deftly dodged and took to the air, flitting around its broad sweeps. Sode no Shirayuki flashed in the sunlight as she bored down with the blade and neatly cleaved the back of the Hollow's head. It disintegrated beneath her attack.

But there was no time to rest. She couldn't relish that victory before she was thrust into another battle, springing at the next Hollow. They were roaring in tandem now, throwing themselves at the Shinigami in a concentrated effort. Her breaths were coming in sharp pants now, heart pounding in her chest. Not for the first time, she began to worry.

One of her subordinates called out in fear. And Rukia's attention was drawn her way. She saw them being pressed back by a group of three, though Sentarou was furiously defending their position with his own shikai. The moment of distraction was all her multiple opponents needed.

A claw slapped her out of mid-air. Rukia hit the ground hard, body slamming into the hard-packed dirt. The air was knocked out of her, but she didn't have time to recover. Another Hollow was already barreling down on her. Rukia rolled out of the way of the claw, barely missing being impaled, and fired a kidoh. The ball of flames struck the Hollow, knocking it off balance.

Using that to her advantage, she quickly rolled to her feet. " _Tsugi no mai, hakuren!_ "

The freezing wind swept through the open plains, and a massive wave of ice flew from her zanpakutou. It engulfed the nearest two Hollows in front of her, bathing them in a thick coating of frost. It was a small victory, and she was already leaping to avoid the blow from behind her. Another claw crashed into the ground where she had been standing, leaving behind an impressive crater.

Rukia whirled in the sky and blocked another blow with her zanpakutou. A gasp was driven from her mouth by the force of the strike. There were simply too many of them. Gritting her teeth, Rukia threw out another kidoh, though without time for the whole incantation, it was significantly less powerful than it could have been. It was, however, enough distraction for her to slip out of the Hollow's range.

She wasn't quick enough to avoid the strike from behind. Something hard and sharp crashed into her back, batting her to the rocks as though she were a mere fly in the air. An annoyance. Rukia struck solid stone this time and felt something inside her crack ominously. Stars danced in front of her eyes, darkness threatening to encroach.

She could smell the sharp copper tang of her own blood. But she couldn't even really remember getting struck again.

Rukia stumbled to her feet, something shifting wetly inside of her chest. Broken ribs probably. Coughing, her fingers tightened around Sode no Shirayuki. Determination burned in blue eyes as she glared at the surrounding Hollows. The shouts of kidoh and tactics were her only reassurance that the rest of her unit still lived.

They only had to hold off for a little while longer. Help was coming. Reinforcements would arrive soon. Just a bit longer.

Hope began to dwindle as she felt new reiatsu join the fight but not that of other Shinigami. No, this was the malevolent spirit pressure of other Hollows. Her insides twisted with uncertainty.

And then, it was a blur of action, of thrown kidoh and her blade flashing through the air. She leapt and ducked and rolled to avoid each painfully sharp pincer. Each Hollow's roar rattled through her bones and set her heart to a new, worried rhythm. Her feet touched ground for mere milliseconds before she was airborne again.

Her last whispered thought was that she had to live, to survive because her children were waiting for her return. And then, she was leaping into battle once more, Sode no Shirayuki raised high and a strong breath of frigid wind following in her wake.

* * *

_Clang!_

The sharp sound of blade meeting blade echoed across the fifth division's training arena. Ichigo inclined his head approvingly as he blocked the rather forceful blow from one of his subordinates. The boy was improving, his hesitation in battle slowly beginning to filter out of his instincts. Just as his own sensei had taught him, Ichigo was giving his own subordinates the value of resolve.

Ever mindful of his greater strength, Ichigo pushed against the blow with Zangetsu, just enough to force his opponent off balance. Dark eyes widened in surprise but then quickly hardened as the boy gritted his teeth and dug his waraji into the hard-packed sand. Ichigo couldn't help but feel proud.

He had been neglecting his division for far too long. This was something he had been promising himself to do a while ago and now felt guilty for not initiating these sessions sooner. The fifth had been holding together miraculously well, but they still needed their captain. And Ichigo didn't want to disappoint them any longer.

He fell back, pulling Zangetsu free and then pushing forward with a series of quick and short slashes. Resolve gathered, his opponent defended each attack and then parried with several of his own. Surrounded by the eyes of their fellows, all eagerly soaking up the display with interest and perhaps picking up a few pointers of their own, he was doing miraculously well.

A wave of sickness suddenly swept through Ichigo, sending a spasm of weakness into his fingers and making his stomach flip. He reeled from the abrupt onslaught, grip on Zangetsu faltering. In his distraction, he staggered, and his subordinate did not hesitate to take the opening. A blade nicked him across the shoulder, tearing his shihakushou and drawing a thin stream of blood. The pain, however, was negligible compared to the strange feeling rippling through the captain's body.

A gasp tore itself from Ichigo's mouth as he slammed Zangetsu into the ground, using his zanpakutou as a means to keep himself from toppling over. Every instinct in his body was twitching this way and that, his senses going into overload. Someone... someone important to him was hurt. That was all he knew. He could feel the decrease in their reiatsu, the shortening of their life, and it made him ill. A fresh bout of dizziness attacked his mind and he sucked in a sharp breath, clinging to his zanpakutou's hilt.

' _Ossan?_ '

That place inside of him where he could always feel Zangetsu, as well as the rest of those important to him, wavered uncertainly. It couldn't be Byakuya, for the bond he felt with his brother-in-law didn't have this pained edge to it. Nor was it any of his children, their bonds always filled with innocent love and adoration. No, this bond was faintly muted, losing its vitality and strength. Which meant--

' _Yes_ ,' Zangetsu's wide tone whispered through his mind. _'It is Rukia_.'

Concern and dread warred with the nausea and dizziness as the worst of the sensation passed. It left Ichigo feeling drained as he peeled his eyes open, not even realizing that he had shut them. Awareness to the outside world gradually trickled in, and it was to the feeling of someone's hands on his shoulders, lightly shaking him.

"Ichigo-kun?"

Yumichika. He would recognize that voice in an instant. And in the background, the subordinate he had been sparring with was apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I didn't mean to--"

"It's fine," Ichigo interrupted the continuous streams of apologies. "It's nothing to be sorry for."

It took great effort for him to straighten, the shock of the bond still a loud ache inside of him. His limbs weren't fully cooperating, fingers twitching in a half-numb state. He barely felt the faint trickle of blood from the superficial wound.

He looked up into concerned purple eyes, Yumichika's forehead pinched with worry. "What happened?" he asked because it wasn't every day that his captain suddenly keeled over in the middle of a simple sparring practice.

Ichigo swallowed, struggling for words against the desolate feeling making a home in his chest. "It's Rukia," he managed to grit out and straightened to his full height. "Something's happened to Rukia."

Yumichika's eyes widened in surprise, jaw dropping. "What?"

Jerking Zangetsu out of the ground, despite the wave of dizziness the sudden action produced, Ichigo returned his zanpakutou to his back. "I don't know," he answered honestly, taking one shaky step and then another until they grew in strength. "I have to find Byakuya." Surely, the Kuchiki noble had noticed as well.

His vice-captain nodded. "I understand. I'll take care of things here. Just get going."

Sheer gratitude for Yumichika was a healthy combatant against the pain he experienced. Ichigo shot him a wan but appreciative upturn of his lips.

"Thanks," he replied and then was gone in a flit of wobbly shunpo.

Not for the first time was he grateful for the proximity of the fifth division to the sixth. He was at Byakuya's office within moments, the worry inside of him growing and swelling with each passing second. Ichigo had already reached for the bond, holding on tightly. It was almost as if he could feel her heartbeat through the weakening connection.

Ichigo was met at the door by Byakuya, who looked to be in just as good a condition as he on the inside. Though on the outside he appeared composed, his worry was reflected in the tightening of his lips and the pinch around his eyes. The two didn't greet, understanding passing between them in an instant.

"The thirteenth," Byakuya said shortly, his words clipped and pained. "Senpai will know what's happening."

The other man simply nodded his agreement, and they were gone just as quickly, worry quickening their shunpo to near battle speeds. The two didn't bother to speak, Ichigo fighting every instinct to blaze furiously towards wherever Rukia would be. But the passing of decades had helped to calm his reckless behavior, and he recognized that her captain would have more information than blindly flitting around in search of her. The pain of the bond was overriding his ability to locate her reiatsu.

The two captains arrived at the thirteenth to find it in a panic, Shinigami rushing all around them. It was obvious that something very wrong was disrupting the division. Fear trickled into the concern, and Ichigo didn't waste any time in rushing to Ukitake's office. His fingers twitched to draw Zangetsu and chase after the source of the pain.

To their disappointment, the main office was utterly devoid of any personnel. The captain's door was wide open, revealing an empty room. Which didn't bode well for their concern.

Ichigo's hands clenched into fists. "I can't just wait here," he stated through gritted teeth, tone edging towards a growl. "I have to know."

For his part, Byakuya sounded perfectly calm, though inside he was a boiling flow of emotion. "And rushing headlong won't get us anywhere." His own reiatsu simmered with barely restrained anxiety.

He was practically shaking, still feeling the aftereffects of that first surge of sickness. "I can't just stand here," Ichigo repeated, sight blurring in front of him. "I can't."

"And yet, there wouldn't be any point going anywhere else."

The voice, coming from behind them and tight with sorrow, caused both Byakuya and Ichigo turn around. There stood Jyuushiro in the doorway, captain's haori speckled with blood and face even paler than normal. He looked drawn, and the distinct shimmer of unshed tears in his eyes said all that needed to be said.

Ichigo felt everything inside of him crash, the feeling of emptiness finally having a name. He didn't need to hear Jyuushiro say it. He already knew. Rukia, his wife, the woman he still _loved_ was gone.

How was that fair? How was that anything close to fucking fair?

His hands clenched into even tighter fists, until his fingers felt as though they were bloodless. Beside him, Byakuya noticeably stiffened, his every manner rigid.

Jyuushiro took a noticeably wobbly step into the room, shoulders slumped. "It was a trap," he explained in a choked voice, failing to hold himself together. "Those damn Hollows. By the time I arrived..." he trailed off and swallowed thickly in order to regain control. "I was too late."

The croaked explanation was the last coherent phrase that managed to slip through Jyuushiro's lips before he completely broke down. The tears he had been holding back fought their way to the surface, and he slumped in the doorway, losing control of his reserve. Ichigo, without even thinking, darted forward, to catch Jyuushiro before he hurt himself on the way down.

Inside, he was weak and nauseous, but watching Jyuushiro fall apart, he knew he couldn't do so also. He felt numb, especially with the noticeable void in his soul where it felt a part of him was missing. But he had to hold together because Byakuya was still just staring into space blankly and Jyuushiro was already gone, torn by the sight of losing someone important to him for the second time.

Ichigo gritted his teeth and bore it, inwardly chanting, ' _Not here. Not here. Not now. Not now. I can't. I can't._ _ **I can't**_ **.** '

Someone had to do it, and he was the only one left. He could only assume that Jyuushiro had come from the fourth division, that the blood staining his haori was from his last and futile attempt to save Rukia. His heart went out to the weeping man, who was as limp as a child in Ichigo's arms.

He didn't know where he was getting the strength to keep together from, but somehow, Ichigo managed it. His eyes glanced to Byakuya, the noble's hands clenching and unclenching, his reiatsu a wild scattering of emotion that lent the air the fragrance of cherry blossoms. The scent warred with that of an approaching thunderstorm, and the many knickknacks in the office were already rattling. There was a distinct shatter as Jyuushiro's favorite tea set split into pieces before Byakuya managed to tighten the reins on his disturbed reiatsu.

Control was slowly slipping from Ichigo's grasp, whittled down by the sense of loss striking through his person. They had separated, and true, their marriage was over. But he had still cared for Rukia. He still loved her and knowing she was gone, that he would never see again, was a pain he couldn't easily dismiss.

And his children! He hadn't even managed to tell them that they were getting divorced. How was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to go home and tell them they would never see their mother again?

Unconsciously, Ichigo's hold on Jyuushiro tightened as he fought to keep from slipping into his own sorrow. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him, sending both he and Jyuushiro to the floor. Zangetsu was far too heavy on his back.

"Jyuu!" Izuru's voice was a welcome interruption and relief to Ichigo. He was even more relieved when the third division captain swept into the room and pulled his husband into his arms, freeing Ichigo. He had likely sensed Jyuushiro's distress, the same way Ichigo had sensed Rukia's end.

Rukia.

The last hold he had on his control fell to pieces around him, and Ichigo found himself kneeling on the floor. He wasn't entirely certain how he had gotten there. Without a need to support Jyuushiro, his conscious decided it was okay to let go. The numbness in his extremities reflected the hollow feeling inside of him. The place where his bond with Rukia had once been was now barren, and he felt it all too strongly.

Others were quickly crowding the confines of Jyuushiro's office, and Ichigo only faintly recognized Shunsui and Renji. He knew that Byakuya was present somewhere too, could feel the pain in the man's reiatsu. But his own open eyes saw nothing, still in a state of disbelief and shock.

Stray words and phrases filtered to his conscious, but they weren't understood. Nor did he bother to interpret them. If anyone was speaking directly to him, he didn't know it. The tightening in his chest and stomach absorbed his attention, along with the nauseating sensation that accompanied the abruptly broken bond.

Ichigo missed big blotches of time, the hours bleeding one into the next. He didn't come back to awareness until someone shoved a warm cup into his hands. The scent of herbal tea floated to his nostrils, waking him from his stupor. Blinking, Ichigo looked up into large and concerned blue eyes.

Hanatarou.

His brother-in-law smiled encouragingly at him. "Drink, Ichigo-san," he urged in his same gentle tone. "It will help to calm you down."

He did so on automatic, too exhausted both inside and out to think for himself. The tea was warm on his tongue, and sensation flooded his insides, replacing the frozen feeling that had overcome him. Blinking, Ichigo looked around. Sitting next to him was Byakuya, holding a similar cup of tea with a similar blank expression.

He was still in Jyuushiro's office, but the others had gone. Jyuushiro and Izuru, Renji if he had even been there at all. And Shunsui as well. The place was utterly abandoned. Just beyond an open window, he caught the impending darkness of evening. It had been before lunchtime when he was sparring with his division members.

He should have been home hours ago.

"Oh, kami," Ichigo breathed, trying to rise on wobbling limbs as his fingers spasmed around warm porcelain. Tea splashed all over his hand from the jerky motion. "My children." How could he have forgotten them?

Small hands settled on his shoulders, forcing him back down. "Don't worry," Hanatarou explained, still attempting reassurance with that gentle smile. It did nothing to comfort the aching captain, however. "Yuzu has them. I made certain they were taken care of."

Ichigo allowed himself to settle back down, relieved that his increasing failure as a father wasn't going to result in his children being uncared for. He certainly owed his friends a great debt for all of their support. From the beginning of the entire mess to even now, they had been by his side, providing the aid when he needed. And now was no exception.

Convinced that Ichigo was going to remain seated, Hanatarou returned to standing in front of the two captains. His eyes were filled with worry, and the silence in the room was stifling.

"Where is Jyuushiro?" The question came from Byakuya, stiff and carefully stated.

A quick glance proved to Ichigo that the Kuchiki heir was holding onto his composure with great difficulty. The white-knuckled grip on his teacup was all the proof he needed. On instinct alone, Ichigo shifted a bit closer to Byakuya, comforted by the man's proximity. He drew strength simply from Byakuya's presence, knowing that he was not the only one suffering.

Hanatarou sighed, eyes casting towards the tray next to him where his hands mechanically rearranged teapot and other paraphernalia. "Kira-taichou has taken him home. Ukitake-taichou was quite distraught."

Given that it was the second time he had lost a much beloved lieutenant, Ichigo could believe it. He brought the tea to his lips and breathed in the aroma but couldn't feel the knot in his belly loosen at all. He sagged where he sat on the floor, head hanging on his neck.

"What am I going to tell them?" he whispered, the question directed at himself but likely heard by the other two in the room.

It was hard enough handling the knowledge on his own. He could feel the tears burning at the back of his eyes, and the lump in his throat refused to go away, no matter how much he swallowed. It would break him to see the same sorrow reflected in the eyes of his children.

Neither had any answer to offer him. And silence lapsed in Jyuushiro's empty office, broken only by the faint sounds of them sipping disinterestedly at their tea.

* * *

The room was silent and dark except for the sound of the overhead fan whirring in continuous circles. The air it produced was a faint breath down on the bed beneath it, lightly stirring strands of white hair. But Jyuushiro barely noticed, curled as he was on the layers of his mattress. He was dressed in a light kimono for comfort, his captain's haori and shihakushou already remanded to the closet. Sougyo no Kotowari was in his stand within a hand's reach away.

His tears had long since dried, leaving him feeling worn out and empty. Sleep, however, would not come. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted it to. He kept seeing images in his mind, reliving over and over the scene he had come across after receiving Rukia's summons for more aid.

Message by Hell Butterfly never could quite convey the urgency of the situation. It wasn't able to relate the fear in Rukia's voice or the half-defeated state she had been in. Jyuushiro had hurried to her aid, Rukia calling for help something that rarely occurred. But even then, he hadn't been fast enough.

It had been a grisly scene he had stumbled upon. Evidence of more than half a dozen Hollow lay in scattered, frozen pieces around the area. Three more still roamed across the expanse, one battling against the remains of Rukia's unit. By something miraculous, Sentarou was still holding together with the last of his team, a paltry four compared to the two dozen that had been sent out.

At first glance, he hadn't seen Rukia anywhere.

Jyuushiro had taken no chances. He had released his zanpakutou to shikai and had taken down the remaining Hollows in one fierce blow, letting his reiatsu spill over the battlefield. As the last of their roars had faded, their bodies dissolving to thin air, he had ordered the Shinigami he had brought with him to search for the missing others. Rukia, he had searched for her himself.

He had found her, lying in a crumpled heap at the base of a rock outcropping. There had been a garish streak of blood sliding down the stone face. He had only been able to assume that she had been thrown there at the very last attack and left to die where she fell. Heart pounding in his chest, he had run to her side, immediately gathering up her frail and battered body. Blood had immediately latched onto the pristine white of his robes.

She hadn't been breathing, and her limp fingers had released her slack hold on Sode no Shirayuki, the blade snapped off at the very tip. He had still been able to see traces of ice though, remnants of her final dance. Yet, in his irrationality, he had still hoped to save her.

Jyuushiro had scooped up her broken body into his arms, and calling out to Kiyone and leaving her in charge of cleanup, he had made his way quickly to the fourth division. Her condition was beyond the low-level fourth division members that had been assigned to accompany him. Shunpo hadn't been fast enough for him, the whole time his fingers grasped tightly around Rukia. Inwardly, he had been hoping beyond rationality that she could be saved. That Orihime could save her or Isane in bankai. That maybe there was a way to cheat death that he still didn't staunchly believe Rukia suffered.

He had known that he should have returned to see to the state of the rest of his subordinates, the lower-seats he didn't know as well and the others who had fallen. Proper protocol and honor and respect practically demanded it of him. But for Jyuushiro, who hadn't wanted to lose another vice-captain, he had ignored all sense of practicality.

It had been a frantic Jyuushiro who stumbled into the fourth, half-crazed and shouting for someone, anyone really. Isane had appeared almost immediately, and he hadn't liked the look of resignation on her face. There was nothing she could do, the woman explained to him in a quiet voice. She couldn't bring back the dead.

He had let Isane take Rukia from him only because his arms couldn't bear her weight any longer. A Hell Butterfly arrived not soon after, Kiyone letting him know that the others had been gathered and were returning to the thirteenth. Some of the fallen had been found alive and were on their way to the fourth. A small favor. Jyuushiro had responded entirely on automatic, struggling to hold himself together.

Byakuya was going to kill him. That had been all he could think. Finally trusting his dear sister to the vacated second-seat, allowing her to take the coveted position. Placing his trust in Jyuushiro's hands. And yet, he had allowed her to be killed. If only he had been quicker, if only.

Isane had suggested he return to his division, to greet the return of his subordinates and to see to the surviving members. With Rukia gone, he had to take control. He had to hold himself together. Jyuushiro had agreed, somehow finding the rationality where it had been pushed aside. But on his return, he had first laid eyes on Byakuya and Ichigo, and everything had stopped. He had nothing but sorrow to offer them, and at that point, he had lost control.

The door to the bedroom opened, letting in a thin stream of light, and promptly closed behind the visitor. Silent steps padded across the floor before the bed dipped behind Jyuushiro, and he was engulfed in warm arms. A familiar scent accompanied his embracer, and Jyuushiro sank back into the comforting touch.

"Izuru," he breathed in a tone that was this shade of broken.

"I'm here," his love assured him, breaths a warm comfort on the back of Jyuushiro's neck. "Don't worry about the division. Everything is being taken care of. I sent my own vice-captain to help."

He drew in a shuddering breath. "Thank you."

The arms around him tightened, drawing him closer into the embrace. "You know that's not needed."

Jyuushiro didn't respond, feeling the pain crest over him again. For the second time, he was suffering this sorrow. It was like he was reliving his dear son's death all over again. He couldn't save Shiba Kaien, and he hadn't been able to save Rukia. He was useless as a captain. As a man.

His body shuddered, and Izuru's grasp tightened in response. "They're going to think I'm cursed," Jyuushiro whispered as he stared into the deep darkness.

He couldn't shake the feeling that this was his fault. He had allowed Rukia to take and lead the patrol. He had sent her after the strange reiatsu readings, and he had allowed her to return to full duty. He should have made her stay within Soul Society, mending the remains of her family and spending time with her children.

But she had been adamant about needing space and time to think, and he had granted it to her. Now, Jyuushiro was kicking himself for giving in to her request. And if he had been faster, if he had somehow arrived sooner. He might have been able to save her.

If. If. If!

The whole situation was plagued with ifs, and he couldn't erase them from his mind.

"No, they won't," Izuru returned confidently. "You are a wonderful captain, who cares deeply about his subordinates. You're not cursed."

He let the words wash over him. "Izuru, I don't want another vice-captain."

Honestly, allowing Rukia to take the position had been hard enough. And then, look what had happened to her.

Jyuushiro swallowed thickly. "I'm not even sure I want to be a captain any longer. I'm getting tired."

The words left his lips, and they were accompanied by a rough cough, his entire body shuddering in response. His lungs ached and burned, though Jyuushiro tried to hold back on the painful coughs. In response, strong hands rubbed at his back, trying to soothe the ache they produced. He could feel his breath rattle in his chest.

When the fit subsided, Izuru was there rub out the aches. "You know that you love being a captain," he murmured into his husband's ear. "You'd miss it."

"I know." His tone was miserable. "But I can't do this again." He didn't think he was strong enough to live through the death of another dear subordinate. The habit of considering his vice-captain precious was growing to be quite painful.

Izuru hummed noncommittally, letting a comfortable silence wash over them. For Jyuushiro, just having his husband near was comfort enough. His heart still ached, and he couldn't shake the images from the back of his mind. But at least, he wasn't alone.

And he knew that somewhere in the living room snoring his life away, Shunsui was waiting. Concern for his best friend had kept him from returning home, and so he hovered like a mother hen, much like he did whenever Jyuushiro was hospitalized for his illness.

The fact that he wasn't alone helped to ease the pain, just a little. He felt himself relaxing fraction by fraction into his husband's embrace, and it wasn't much later that he succumbed to his exhaustion. He let his sorrow wash over him and sank into sleep, physically and emotionally drained.

* * *

 


	22. Of Tears

He was dragging his steps, and Ichigo knew it. But try as he might, he couldn't force himself to lift his feet any quicker. His entire body felt weighted down, pushed by some greater force than his own strength. His eyes were red and raw, and it didn't help that he was now trapped within a gigai. It was a necessity for being in Karakura, where his children were currently within his sister's care.

He couldn't put it off any longer. If he had felt Rukia's death, then he knew his spiritually aware children had to have felt something as well. They were most likely confused and upset, worried about their father who hadn't mentioned any sort of vacation to Karakura. And the last thing he wanted to do was upset his kids, especially Syaoran who was still getting over the lingering traces of her pneumonia.

Ichigo's only consolation was that he wasn't alone. In unspoken agreement, Byakuya had come with him, and he was a silent, comforting presence at Ichigo's side. He drew strength from Byakuya's attendance. And for just a moment, he was able to handle the thoughts skittering across his mind.

His brother-in-law had his own reasons for leaving Soul Society at the moment. Ichigo knew he was avoiding the summons of the Kuchiki clan, considering his nieces and nephews far more important than bureaucratic pandering. He didn't blame Byakuya one bit. The Head of the Kuchiki Clan was sometimes too heavy a burden for his friend to bear.

He bit back on the disconsolate sigh that threatened to spill from his lips and betray everything he was trying to maintain and lifted his gaze. His childhood was right before him, lights cheerily shining behind familiar curtains and filling his heart with some comfort. There was no feeling like coming home. But he still felt the place beside him where Rukia usually stood that much emptier.

Yet, on his other side, there was another presence. One that he couldn't entirely ignore.

Ichigo felt the most sudden and strangest urge to grab Byakuya's hand and entangle their fingers together. His own hand even twitched at the abrupt thought. He held back from following through with the action, however, and focused his attention back on the house. He still felt grey eyes watching him.

Squaring his shoulders with more assurance than he actually felt, Ichigo strode up to the front walk. The light came on automatically as he neared, bathing the lawn in an orange glow. The door opened before Ichigo could even begin to debate between pulling out the key or knocking, and bright light revealed Yuzu. Just past her, Ichigo could hear and sense his father and Karin. The worry emanating from the house was practically palpable.

"Ichi-nii," Yuzu murmured sympathetically and stepped aside to let him in. "I'm so sorry."

The strength in his shoulders sagged just a bit more as Ichigo entered his childhood home, familiar sights and smells offering little comfort. And then, he was being wrapped in his sister's arms, her sympathy not unexpected. It took every effort not to let the tears fall again, but they banked behind his eyelids.

"I'm okay," he managed to say gruffly, but it was a lie, and the both of them knew it. "I just... I'm okay."

She pulled back and looked into his face, disbelieving but choosing to let him hold onto that minor untruth if it helped with the pain. And then, her gaze slipped past him to Byakuya, sympathy deepening. Yuzu went past him and enveloped Byakuya in a hug that the Kuchiki noble didn't dare try to escape.

"Yuzu, is that..." Karin came around the corner from the hallway, and her question died on her lips as she caught sight of her brother. "Ichi-nii."

He felt really, really tired at the sight of the sympathy on her face. He didn't mind so much since she was his sister, but he knew he would have to start expecting this from everyone. The condolences and the pity. The rumors would start again, and he doubted that people would hold back now that Rukia was gone. The uncomplimentary comments that had been spreading would only get worse.

"Hey." He gave the thinnest and tightest smile his sister had probably ever seen. "Are Kaien and Syaoran awake?"

Karin nodded, taking the few steps down the hall that separated them. "They're with Goat-Face in the kitchen. He's making cocoa." She made a face that expressed how fond they all were of his father's hot chocolate, but Ichigo couldn't even manage a hint of a chuckle at the old family joke.

Isshin's hot cocoa was only marginally more edible than Urahara's tea, and that was saying something. Even Yama-jii with his iron stomach wouldn't touch the stuff.

Behind them, Yuzu had finally released Byakuya and was subtly wiping her face. "They didn't want to go to sleep until they saw you," she explained. "Especially after we told them you were coming."

Ichigo sighed, feeling his heart clench again. "Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you guys," he replied, the surge of affection for his family momentarily combating the pain inside of him.

He left Byakuya with his sisters and moved further into his childhood home, following the sound of voices. First, Syaoran and then Kaien followed by Isshin's usual bluster. The old man's teasing sounded forced, as though he were trying to make everything seem alright when it clearly wasn't. Ichigo might have just loved him for that.

Rounding the corner, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen and looked in at the sight. Isshin was standing at the counter, back to the doorway and mixing up three cups as he looked down at the two children. By the expressions on their faces, however, they didn't seem to be buying his assurances that the "Isshin-Brand-Hot-Chocolate-of-Love" was delicious. In fact, Kaien had that predictably contentious look on his face.

He watched for several long moments, wanting them to enjoy a moment of happiness, even if it was partially forced. And then, he spoke to gather their attention.

"I wouldn't taste it either," he said, attempting humor that failed miserably. "It's been known to leave you bedridden for days."

Kaien and Syaoran whirled at the sound of his voice, and Ichigo sucked in a breath at just the sight of them. In spite the teasing of their grandfather, it was clear that they were just faking as well. He could easily read the confusion and the worry in their faces. He could see the subtly false way Kaien was holding himself proud and tall and saw the edge that Syaoran hovered on, a definite sheen behind her eyes.

They knew something had happened.

"Tou-chan." Syaoran immediately rushed to meet him, wrapping her arms around his belly and burying her face in his shirt. Whatever else she said was muffled by the cotton.

He placed his hand on her hair and soothed it down, only faintly noticing that it was shaking. "Hey, sweetie," he murmured and hated himself for being unable to control the tremor in his voice.

He lifted his gaze to Kaien, his son watching him with a mixture of emotions. Ichigo crossed the floor at a much slower pace than his sister until he stood just before his father, arms folded over his chest. Determination was writ into his features as he met Ichigo's gaze evenly, looking far too old for his age.

"Where's okaa-san?" he demanded, as if he had already known all along what was going on and was waiting for his father to confirm it. But behind the fake bravado, Ichigo could see the fear and the sorrow.

Syaoran's fingers tightened in their grip on the back of Ichigo's shirt, saying nothing further. He felt her tears dampening the fabric, and it was very nearly his undoing.

Ichigo felt his breath hitch, and the words locked in his throat. He reached forward, grabbing Kaien with his free hand and pulling his son towards him. Kaien reached up, grasping onto his father and forcing his head back to look up at Ichigo. If he noticed his sister's silent weeping, the boy didn't say anything. But the fear was in his eyes already, and despite his greatest efforts, they too were growing moist with unshed tears.

"Tou-san!" Kaien insisted, demanding answers that Ichigo hurt too much to give. But he had to because this was something he couldn't push off telling them. He couldn't evade this question.

He opened his mouth to speak, but only one phrase managed to emerge.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo croaked, the words dry and raspy and oh-so painful. "I'm so sorry."

Syaoran's trembling became that much more apparent as she wiped her face on his shirt, though the tears continued to flow. He wouldn't be surprised if his clothing ripped from the force of her grip, little hiccuping sobs emerging from her silent figure. Kaien's response was much more demonstrative as he both froze and then jerked free from his father's hold, the emotions tearing at him.

"Why are you sorry?" he nearly shouted, hands balled into small fists. "Where is kaa-chan? Where is she?" Each question was practically frantic, and his voice broke on the last one as his lower lip trembled.

Ichigo looked at his son, eyes red-rimmed, and felt every ounce of his own agony crashing over him. "She's gone, Kaien," he said as gently as possible and felt the warmth trickle down his cheeks. "She's gone."

His son was far too old to not know what his father meant. Blue eyes the same damn shade as his mother's widened before he reacted in a way that Ichigo had expected. The wild swing he took at his father was way off course and never had chance of hitting him with the tears blinding his sight.

"It's not true," Kaien moaned sorrowfully, collapsing forward into his father's free arm. "It's not true. It's _not_." His voice cracked again, and the last hold cracked into pieces, the tears falling all too freely now.

Ichigo caught him before he could hit the ground and pulled Kaien into his hold, right next to his sister. Kaien threw a few more weak punches, fists slamming against his father's unyielding chest, before he succumbed to the embrace. All attempts at dignity were thrown aside as he began to weep without holding back.

The guilt grew stronger, and Ichigo felt like a terrible parent as he tried to soothe his children with his own love and affection alone. But it clearly wasn't enough by the force of their sobbing, and he had never felt more helpless in his entire life. Their grief was tearing him apart.

He felt Byakuya's presence before he saw him and looked up to find the Kuchiki heir entering the kitchen. His father had vanished, likely to speak with Yuzu and Karin, but Ichigo scarcely paid that any attention. He met Byakuya's eyes briefly and helplessly before the other man placed his hands against Syaoran and Kaien's backs.

Almost immediately, Syaoran loosed herself from her strangle hold on her father and threw herself at her uncle, wrapping her arms around his neck. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. She had been more and more clinging to Byakuya lately, going to him for comfort when she used to go to her father. Byakuya was startled for all of a second before he enclosed his niece in his arms and smoothed down her hair, trying his best at a comfort he wasn't sure how to give.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo murmured again because that was all he could say to them. "I'm so sorry." He rocked Kaien in his hold, wishing he had the power to go back and change time, to fix this.

He hadn't protected her as he had promised himself he always would. Ichigo knew that logically he hadn't been there and that he couldn't have done so. He knew that Rukia had always been bound and determined to live by her own strength. That she would have been angered by him even suggesting she needed his protection. Yet, he still felt as if he had failed his children in some way.

Ichigo closed his eyes and simply endured, locking down on his own pain for the sake of absorbing his children's. It didn't help that Rukia's presence had been lessening in their lives before her death. Now, they would never see her again, and that pain couldn't easily be cast aside. They were too young for this, and in that moment, Ichigo felt every reminder of losing his own mother. He could sympathize with them more than anyone, as if the past had only served to repeat itself.

"...not... fair..."

Kaien's mumble, nearly swallowed by the fabric of Ichigo's shirt. And his continued snuffling, nearly made his father start.

Unbidden, he recalled a young boy standing on the edge of a river, searching endlessly for a mother who wasn't coming home. He remembered consuming feelings of guilt and the pain that came with hiding what had felt like the utter truth. And he remembered trying to lock it all inside just to save those around him from his own misery.

He refused to let either Kaien or Syaoran suffer the same way he had, even if it meant he had to bear it all on his own. They were lucky in that they already understood the existence of Hollows and that they wouldn't be confused. And they were also fortunate that they hadn't had to witness it with their own eyes. Ichigo was so very grateful for that small blessing.

He lowered his head and pressed Kaien close to his chest. "No, it's not," he agreed, keeping the lecture about life not being so to himself for now. "It's not at all."

Banishing thoughts of the past from his mind since he didn't need more sorrow on top of the misery he already felt, Ichigo offered his comfort to his children. His hand continued a consoling rub across Kaien's back. And he endured the sound of Syaoran's quiet whimpers.

They remained in the kitchen like that for a long time, the smell of Isshin's failed hot chocolate lingering in the air. Ichigo didn't dare move until he felt Kaien's sobbing trickle down to sniffing and hiccuping. Proving that he was running low on tears, though his grief remained strong. The strong grip he had on his father's shirt lessened just slightly, and Ichigo took that as a chance to move him somewhere more comfortable.

He gently scooped his son into his arms, ignoring his faint murmur of protest. Beside him, Byakuya copying his motions. For the first time in a long while, Kaien curled close to him as Ichigo carried him up the stairs. He had exhausted himself with his tears, and the sight of his dampened face nearly set Ichigo off again.

Upstairs, he located the room that Kaien and Syaoran were sharing and gently lowered his son to the bed. He was surprised when hands curled into his shirt and refused to let go, asking without words for his father to stay. Understandable considering he had just lost his mother. Kaien probably feared losing anyone else important to him.

It wasn't even a choice to Ichigo. He obediently lowered himself to the bed beside his son, letting Kaien curl up beside him. One arm settled around the boy and the other curled around Syaoran as Byakuya laid her down on his other side. He was reminded of the night a few months ago when they had both come to the bed with him for his own comfort. Things certainly had come full circle.

Exhaustion was sinking its claws into Ichigo as well, trying to drag him under its unwavering tide. He looked up at Byakuya, the other man's face unreadable. But from the other room, a new noise joined the atmosphere. That of Mikan and Ryuunosuke waking, and they were not happy about it. Ichigo had the suspicion that they were somewhat aware of the distress threading through their family.

He heard footsteps down the hall, someone responding to the twins' cry, and realized that it was Yuzu, her soft voice immediately following. But with an exchange of glances between Ichigo and Byakuya, the elder male left the room as quietly as he had entered to see to the twins. Ichigo let himself relax then, focusing on his eldest children.

They were still softly crying as he held them, but fatigue was pulling at them more strongly than at himself. He murmured nonsense soothing words under his breath that they probably didn't hear but just the sound of his voice was comfort enough. The tears eventually dried as his children succumbed to the tug of sleep, clinging tightly to his side.

Only then did Ichigo allow himself to let go. The emotions of the day and the feelings crashed over him. The events flooded his mind, reminding him over and over just who he had lost. He held his children that much tighter without hurting them and let the sobs come, though they were quiet and lacking in movement.

He wondered how he was going to do it. True, he wasn't alone in this. And sure, he had more help than he knew what to do with. But he couldn't bear to see his children in pain, and this was certainly agonizing. Not to mention the twins, who had never even gotten a chance to truly know their mother before she was cruelly taken from them.

Kaien was absolutely right. It really wasn't fair. But if he were to be honest with himself, nothing in Ichigo's life had ever been. Not four decades ago and certainly not now. He had always managed to pick himself up and trudge onwards, and Ichigo supposed that he would have to do again and now. That didn't make the pain any less.

Gently rubbing his children's back, Ichigo urged them into a deeper, more relaxing sleep. And prayed that their dreams weren't haunted by nightmares.

Despite the emotions running ragged through him, Ichigo eventually fell asleep as well. And he was glad for the lack of dreams. He didn't want to be tortured by either happy memories or cruel nightmares of Rukia's death. The complete darkness was most welcome, and it was sometime later that he awoke, though he wasn't entirely sure what had disturbed him from his sleep.

Frowning, he glanced at his children. Syaoran and Kaien were deep into sleep, still too worn out to do much more than that. With great care, Ichigo extricated himself from the bed. He noted with much fondness that they unconsciously reached for each other. For once, not arguing but getting along as siblings should. It tugged at his heart.

Smiling to himself at the endearing sight, he carefully reached for the blanket folded at the end of the bed and draped it over their sleeping forms. It wouldn't do for Syaoran to have a relapse. Ichigo pressed a kiss to their foreheads, feeling the burdens weighing heavy on his heart. But sleep was now the last thing on his mind.

He quietly left the room, pulling the door behind him but leaving it open enough to let in a wide sliver of light. Syaoran was still sometimes frightened of waking up in complete darkness. With that, he stepped across the hall to the room the twins were currently occupying, taking momentary refuge in Isshin's room. Knowing the old man, he was either at the geta-boushi's or snoring away on the couch downstairs, forcing Ichigo to find his own place to sleep. Like the closet in his former bedroom.

He stilled at the thought, standing in the threshold of the doorway, memories crashing over him. Of Rukia sleeping in his closet like it was her own personal bedroom. He could still remember the sound of her damned Shinigami phone chirping at all hours of the night. Or his sister's complains that her clothes were disappearing. Or her popping out at him from nowhere just when he thought he was alone.

 _Crack_.

It was only a faint sound, but it broke Ichigo from the memories. He blinked and looked around, only to notice that the grip he'd had on the door frame had been less than safe. He had somehow managed to crack the wood in just a gigai. He was pretty certain he had the geta-boushi to blame for making one that was slightly less than human. Or perhaps his madly swirling reiatsu had something to do with it.

Shaking his head, Ichigo forced himself to release the frame and followed through with his original plan. He stepped into the room and to the crib that had been set up, always pulled out of storage whenever he came visiting. Karin liked to joke that he never came without bringing some new son or daughter.

Mikan and Ryuunosuke were asleep, as they always seemed to be lately when he had chance to see them. Ichigo resolved in that moment to spend more time with them awake. He didn't want to seem like he was neglecting his children. Infants were so impressionable, and the last thing he wanted was for them to grow up without the feeling of being cared for. He loved them too much for that.

He reached down and gently stroked their soft cheeks, careful not to wake them. They were so innocent at this age, so untouched by the pain that was rippling through their family. And Ichigo was glad that at least someone was spared that agony, even if they would feel it to a smaller extent when they were older. Perhaps by then, he would know the words and be able to explain things better.

Mikan didn't stir at his touch, but Ryuu turned his head, nuzzling his father's chin. It was a sight that nearly made him tear up again, but he held it down, instead concentrating on the loving swell in his heart. By kami, he loved his children. He didn't know what he'd do without him.

Leaning on the crib, he smiled down at the young twins. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not letting his voice carry any further than the door. "You won't get to know what a great person your kaa-chan was. She loved you guys."

Neither twin stirred at the admission, not that he expected them to. Feeling choked, he leaned over and kissed each on their foreheads. He lingered for a few minutes more and watched over them as though guarding their sleep before he allowed himself to leave. He left the door open behind him, always careful to listen and then headed downstairs.

The house was utterly silent around him, and a quick glance through the kitchen window showed that it was fully dark outside. Street lamps gave him glimpses of an empty street. It was late enough that most of the neighborhood was asleep, which meant that his household likely was as well. Ichigo, however, had no wish to return to slumber.

He didn't really have a destination in mind, roaming through the house for the sake of roaming. But as he passed the den, he caught sight of a lone figure and paused. Through the darkness of the room, he saw the door to the backyard pushed slightly open. And in the gap, he could see someone sitting on the back porch. A flutter of long black hair identified the individual.

Padding silently through the room, Ichigo stepped up the door and peered through the gap, admittedly spying just a bit. Byakuya was merely sitting there, staring at the bowl in his hand filled with a clear liquid. Beside him, a sake bottle rested innocuously. Byakuya didn't even appear to be drinking, simply gazing into it as though it held the answers.

Shifting his position, Ichigo was granted a glimpse of the noble's profile and nearly gasped at what he saw. His heart gave a flutter of hurt as he caught the wet tracks glistening down Byakuya's cheeks. It wasn't the flooding weep of his children but a slow slog through sorrow. And Byakuya, the stubborn bastard, was facing it alone. Ichigo should have known to expect such behavior.

Firming his lips, Ichigo didn't even have to think about his next move. He slid the door open with enough room for him to ease out and then closed it behind him. The sound attracted Byakuya's attention, and the noble turned to look up at him.

"Ichigo, what...?" His question died on his lips as Ichigo lowered himself to the porch behind Byakuya and wrapped his arms around the older man.

"I know we haven't officially talked yet," Ichigo whispered, encircling his arms loosely around Byakuya and resting them gently against his stomach. "But just let me do this for you."

It hadn't even required much thought on his part. He had just reacted and done this for his friend. Byakuya who had been by his side and hadn't once cried but had been supporting him, even though he had to have been hurting himself. First Hisana and then Rukia, as though the two sisters were fated to provide him with so much pain. Or worse, as if he were constantly doomed to lose those important to him.

If Byakuya'd had any intention to argue, he clamped down on it the moment Ichigo spoke. Instead, he relaxed into the embrace and lowered his head, focusing his gaze back on the cup of sake. His fingers tightened around the porcelain, and the still untouched alcohol wavered.

"I should be the one comforting you," Byakuya said softly, as though reprimanding himself for what he considered a slight on his part.

"And you have," Ichigo assured him and set his chin on Byakuya's shoulder, selfishly stealing some of the other man's warmth. "Just by being here. But you know, it's okay to be human, even if you are the great Kuchiki Byakuya-sama."

He sensed more than saw the small smile that flitted to Byakuya's lips. His grip on his sake bowl faltered as he ducked his head and brought it to his lips, taking a small sip of the alcohol. It was then that Ichigo felt the slight tremor to Byakuya's shoulders, and he just knew that the noble was crying. Though it was difficult to see with the veil his long hair created around his face.

Ichigo swallowed thickly, the sight of a man as strong as Byakuya taken down by grief something that was going to lodge inside of him for a long time. Unconsciously, his hold tightened just a bit, and he leaned his head to the side. He could feel the softness of Byakuya's hair against the side of his cheek, and even for him, currently in the role of comforter, it was a consoling feeling.

Nothing more was said between the two of them that night. They simply sat in a companionable silence as Byakuya freely released his sorrow.

For tomorrow, the funeral, would be even worse.

\----------------------------

Sick of the rumors and the backstabbing and the sycophancy, Ichigo made Rukia's funeral a private affair despite the captain-commander's and the Kuchiki elder's wishes. She was his damn wife; it was his damn decision to make. And Ichigo didn't care what anyone else had to say on the matter, threatening them with Shirosaki if they dared argue. Those unwelcome were barred from attending by Kenpachi and some of the eleventh division, and Ichigo made sure that only their real family and friends were able to pay their respects to Rukia.

He wasn't sure how he managed the entire ceremony, how he kept himself together. He had plastered a fake facade of composure, while inwardly he was crumbling to bits. But for the sake of his children, he couldn't break down. And so, he held Kaien's hand, his son clinging to him in a way he hadn't for a few years, and let his child know it was okay to cry.

Syaoran remained stuck to her uncle as though she feared he, too, was going to disappear at any moment. Her eyes were red-rimmed from constant tears, and her initial attempt at composure had failed the moment they began receiving guests. Byakuya, for his part, was as collected as his best friend, his mask far more believable than Ichigo's own. Then again, the Kuchiki noble had far more practice than his brother-in-law.

Despite everything, Ichigo still found himself going through the rituals and the rites on almost automatic. It was as if he thought it wouldn't be true if he didn't completely experience it. Or maybe he was simply stunned by the whole outcome. Either way, he received condolences politely and responded as he was supposed to but was otherwise unaware of the events surrounding him.

What the others offered to the last of Rukia, he didn't know. He didn't see Renji's reaction or Jyuushiro's tears and pale face. It was only those closest to him that he noticed. The freshly picked flowers that Syaoran had so carefully selected for several long hours, choosing only those that were unmarred and brightly colored. The stuffed rabbit Kaien had once cuddled to sleep, given by a son who now had more important things to fear than the dark.

But he was most surprised by what Byakuya had given.

A small sheaf of papers bound together in an amateurish fashion with only a hint of bright color peeking from the white. Drawings. A whole collection of them. Ichigo vaguely remembered the Kuchiki siblings sharing the same artistic ability, despite not being related by blood. How very appropriate.

The ceremony seemed to drag on into eternity when all Ichigo wanted to do was grieve in peace. He couldn't do that, however, until the others who wanted to pay their respects were finished. He could only stand by, nod his head, accept condolences, and watch as those who actually loved and respected Rukia offered their last words and wishes to her. He was glad though for how many there were. It was a consolation that despite what had happened, she had not been abandoned by her friends and family.

His children were exhausted by the end of it, drooping where they stood and having long run out of tears. The day seemed to never end, and Ichigo couldn't have been more glad when the last mourner left, leaving him to his own business. And he was never more grateful for Byakuya's help as the noble ushered them to his house where he could take care of his children in peace.

He fed an exhausted Kaien and Syaoran and tucked them into bed, several hours too early. But they were too tired to care. And later, when he checked on them, he found one empty bed and the two of them sharing the other. Deriving comfort from one another. Kaien protecting his younger sister. It was a sight that never failed to warm his heart. Despite their constant bickering, they were still family.

Only when they were asleep did Ichigo feel he could relax and let go. He allowed the tense lines in his back to ease and released the pent up frustration that had been coiling inside. Several freeing breaths were sucked in as he changed out of his shihakushou, perfect for any important occasion, and into the comfort of a borrowed nemaki.

And then, he joined Byakuya outside.

The Kuchiki manor was silent, not that the lack of sound was different from the norm. The halls were shadowed from the extinguishing of the majority of the lights, and every servant had either returned home or to their quarters within the grounds for the evening. Very little stirred within the expansive and opulent manor, except for the two of them sitting on the porch to one of the smaller side gardens.

The soft noise of porcelain striking porcelain rippled through the still night, lit only by a pallid, crescent moon. Sake tipped into Ichigo's bowl as Byakuya poured what had to be their seventh or eighth shot of the night. Neither was really counting but neither were they trying to get drunk either. It was simply their memorial to Rukia, the last they would give that day.

Looking down at the clear liquid, Ichigo sloshed it around the bowl before drinking deeply. It had long ago lost its burn, leaving him with the wonderful taste against his tongue.

Beside him, Byakuya set down the jug and sipped at his own bowl. Next time, it would be Ichigo's turn to pour.

They had been performing this ritual for the past hour or so. Night had long fallen on Seireitei, ending one of the longest days in Ichigo's existence. Rather than return to his own home, which reminded him all too starkly of Rukia around every corner, Ichigo had graciously accepted Byakuya's invitation. His own house was far too familiar, bringing up memories that had hurt before, but were now agonizing to relive. And now, the children were asleep in their respective bedrooms, exhausted after their own day, leaving the two adults to share their grief.

The soft silence between them was neither awkward nor expectant. The two simply enjoyed the fine sake, a gift pressed into their hands from a grieving and worried Shunsui, and watched the fall of moonlight. Lost to their own thoughts.

Ichigo's eyes tilted back towards his bowl, half-empty and needing to be filled soon again. "I didn't want this," he finally whispered, voice the first to penetrate the easy quiet between them. His bare toes wriggled in the cool and damp grass beneath his feet.

His eyes turned towards Ichigo questioningly, but Byakuya didn't speak. He knew that the younger man would elaborate when he was ready and not a second sooner. He had grown to learn that very well about his brother-in-law.

Sighing, Ichigo tilted his head back and ignored his alcohol for the moment. "I didn't want her to die."

A brief wind stirred, blowing strands of dark hair free from its usual Kenseikan into Byakuya's face as he looked at Ichigo. "No one thinks you did," he responded, sensing the echo of guilt in his friend's reiatsu.

Ichigo sniffed disbelievingly, tone full of bitterness. "They're not saying it, but I can already see it in the stares. They think I'm happy she's out of the way."

"And what does the opinion of a bunch of nameless Shinigami who don't know anything mean?" Byakuya posed, tugging his nemaki closer to his frame in the wake of the chill wind.

Swirling around the sake before draining the bowl dry, Ichigo stared at the ground. "She went on that patrol to escape the words of those nameless Shinigami," he muttered. "Among other things."

Ichigo let out a snort of self-disgust. He huddled in on himself and stared out at the slowly dying garden in front of him. A few minutes passed in silence before he reached for the bottle and uncorked it, beginning to freshen their drinks.

"She must've hated me," Ichigo mumbled then, half to himself and half to Byakuya. "In the end, she must have. Everything that happened, that she went through, it was much my fault, too."

"Impossible. Rukia loved you."

As though he hadn't even heard the words, Ichigo merely shook his head. "Everyone's trying to make me some victim, like I didn't have any sort of part in it. But even I can see it now." His grip tightened on the bowl. "If I were half the husband I should have been, I would have noticed her unhappiness. I neglected her for everything else, the children, my position... _you_. I never even noticed how miserable she was."

Ichigo slipped further into his morose mood, instances upon instances crashing through his memories. Moments where he should have realized, should have noticed her pain. And yet, he hadn't.

"Ichigo. That's not--"

Again, the other man seemed not to hear Byakuya. "I could use an excuse," Ichigo continued bitterly. "But really, that's all it is in the end. I should have made her happy. I should have noticed… and I don't know... done _something_. It's--"

His words cut off mid-ramble as thin and elegant fingers gripped his chin gently, turning his face towards Byakuya. Ichigo had all of a moment to be stunned before lips were descending on his, pressing softly. The kiss was rather sloppy and messy as their mouths bumped together and teeth clanged briefly since Ichigo had been unprepared. But gradually, he realized the kiss for what it was and responded. Byakuya tasted faintly of sake and sorrow, if the latter even had a taste.

The agitation and stress that had been building in his bones and muscles, gradually eased away at the comforting touch, and Ichigo sighed. His fingers loosened in their death grip around his sake bowl. And then, the kiss ended as Byakuya pulled back, his grip falling from Ichigo's chin.

Ichigo blinked. "Byakuya...?" The question seemed to die on his lips before he even properly constructed one in his mind.

"You were speaking nonsense," the Kuchiki noble explained with an almost confused blink of his own. He licked his lips briefly, as if to savor the feeling.

"And that was?"

Eyes shifted to the side almost embarrassedly. "My voice wasn't reaching you," Byakuya explained. "So I thought something of a more demonstrative nature would."

Ichigo looked at the other man, his cheeks reddening of their own accord as a light-headed feeling swooped through his brain. He blinked, glancing down at the sake. Just how much had he drank? Certainly not enough to become inebriated or even close to the amount he had consumed that one night. But this feeling was still faintly familiar.

Byakuya continued in the wake of Ichigo's silence, shifting his position in a manner that for anyone else would have been called a fidget. "But that's all you will get from me tonight," he declared quietly and focused on his sake as though it held all the answers. "I meant it when I said I would wait however long it took."

A surge of warmth washed through Ichigo at the words, and some of the sorrow that had been clinging like a wet blanket washed out of him. He wasn't alone. Without thinking, Ichigo leaned forward and captured Byakuya's lips again. It was a fumble at first, just like before, but Byakuya more quickly returned the kiss.

It was slow and warm, reassuring in its gentleness. Kissing Byakuya was so different from kissing Rukia, but Ichigo wasn't about to compare the two. He couldn't; it was impossible. In fact, he relished the difference, glad to see that it wasn't anything about replacement, one Kuchiki sibling for the other. He wanted Byakuya for Byakuya, and that was all there was to it.

Ichigo absorbed comfort from the kiss, the reassurance that he wasn't going to face this pain alone. And then, a strange sort of dizziness assailed him, and he slumped, breaking away.

"Whoah..." One hand lifted to his forehead, where he felt flushed and overly warm. "I didn't think that I drank that much..." Yet, his spinning mind seemed to point otherwise.

He mentally recounted. Between them, he and Byakuya had drank only five bottles. That was about two and a half for himself. Not nearly enough to intoxicate him.

Byakuya grasped his shoulder to steady him, quickly noticing the bleariness in dark eyes. "Perhaps your tolerance has been affected," he suggested logically, which considering all that Ichigo had endured recently was highly likely.

Something that resembled a moan escaped Ichigo in agreement. "Yeah, maybe," he mumbled as he swayed in place and dropped his empty bowl of sake. "M'tired." The last was little more than a slur as he slumped into unconsciousness.

Despite himself, Byakuya was faintly amused by Ichigo's sudden lack of tolerance. Then again, the combination of emotional stress and lack of sleep and proper nourishment probably had more to do with it than anything else. Shaking his head, he corked the sake with one hand and left it sitting on the porch. Rising to his feet, he scooped Ichigo into his arms, unwilling to let his best friend asleep on the porch. Not with autumn weather bringing in chillier nights.

He was glad for the extra strength given to him thanks to being a Shinigami because Ichigo was not the lightest of individuals. Considering that they were nearly the same height and Byakuya was certain Ichigo outweighed him. Or at least he would have had he not been steadily losing weight recently. Byakuya resolved to make sure that he at least ate more. It wouldn't do for him to fall ill earlier.

He quickly made his way through the manor to the nearest room, which happened to be his own. It was more comfortable than the guest room anyway. Or perhaps that was just what he was telling himself. Either way, it was where he was going to let Ichigo sleep for the night.

Byakuya gently placed Ichigo on the bed, the man stirring at the movement. Feeling his heart warm at the almost innocent sight, Byakuya turned away with the intention of leaving. Before he could escape, however, fingers wrapped around his wrist, dragging him to a halt.

"Don't," a voice asked, prompting him to face Ichigo once more. He noticed that brown eyes were trying to focus on him with marginal success. "I can't... no more cold beds."

He hesitated though, no matter how much he wanted to simply oblige Ichigo's request. "And what if the children were to awaken before us?" the Kuchiki heir asked using pure logic that had nothing to do with his own desires. "What then?"

He could tell by the furrowing of Ichigo's brow that the younger man was trying to concentrate.

"I'll explain," he answered, voice a bit hoarse. "They have to be told anyway. Just... please."

It was the last that broke him, throwing all other hesitancy and questions out the window. It was so wrong for Ichigo to sound like this when Byakuya was used to him strong and indomitable. He didn't dare decline now.

Sighing to himself, Byakuya inclined his head in agreement, and the grip fell from his wrist. He moved to switch off the light, bathing the room in darkness, before returning to the bed. The uncertainty didn't strike again until after he had already laid down, wondering just how close he should be. It felt somewhat awkward, what with the miles between them. But then Ichigo solved the question for him and shifted closer until he could feel the warmth of the other man next to him.

Byakuya released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding as he heard Ichigo shift into comfort and then ever-so-casually throw an arm over him. Despite all that, he was surprised by how easily sleep came to him, sliding into slumber with the next few breaths.

\------------------------------

"My, how _cute_."

The voice singsonging above him forced Ichigo out of sleep and into a bleary sort of wakefulness. He winced at the far too happy tone and peeled open one eye. Peering through early morning sunlight, he caught sight of a familiar form at the foot of the bed.

A bed that was far too comfortable to be his own.

Ichigo finally realized he was lying on something warm, and the feel of someone's breath brushing across his ear was yet another telltale sign. Blinking, the night before suddenly rushed back to him as the fog in his mind began to clear. Despite having been a married man, he flushed profusely once he realized just whom he was currently sprawled atop.

Though no response had been given, the unannounced visitor continued, fan waving through the air. "You're lucky I came before your children decided to storm in and wake their father."

There was a shifting beneath Ichigo, and he abruptly moved back as Byakuya stirred.

"Who let you in, Urahara?" came the noble's sleepy voice as Ichigo hurried to put a more appropriate distance. "That way I can punish them later."

The shopkeeper laughed and shook his head, giving both men a knowing look. "Now, now, Byakushi. Is that what you should be saying to the man who saved you from a potentially awkward situation?"

" _This_ is a potentially awkward situation," Ichigo hissed in return, a bit annoyed but not too much considering that the geta-boushi was teasing him and that really said a lot.

He hadn't been teased by Urahara much since the end of the war. So he could endure the irritating behavior now if only that meant his friend wouldn't return to the fake smiles and melancholy. Shifting to throw his legs over the side of the bed, Ichigo realized that his robe had gaped open, and he hastily moved to draw it closed, not that it escaped Urahara's shrewd eyes.

He sought to distract the other man. "What time is it?"

"Approaching noon," Urahara chirped far too cheerily for either of their comfort as that annoying fan continued to wave.

In the process of raking fingers through his hair, Ichigo paled. "Kami. I'm surprised the kids haven't come looking yet." He rose to his feet. "They must be hungry."

"Ah, don't worry," the geta-boushi assured him. "Kuina fed them this morning and has been keeping an eye on them. And right now, Yoruichi is entertaining them."

Ichigo snorted. "All the more reason to be concerned," he retorted absentmindedly as he belatedly realized just how rested he felt.

The feeling of sadness was still there, tugging at his emotions, but the pain was lessened. Byakuya's warmth had helped to chase away the chill from Rukia's loss. From the corner of his eye, he snuck a glance at Byakuya, who for once looked as flustered as he did. He had to admit, a sleep-mussed and disarrayed Byakuya was just as attractive as a perfectly composed and put together Byakuya. It made him... _cute_ , for lack of a better word, but Ichigo enjoyed his own health to dare something like that aloud.

Shadowed eyes glanced between both Ichigo and Byakuya for several long moments before the fan snapped close with a sudden sound, nearly making both of them jump. "Well, I'll just leave you two to your business," Urahara announced, already wandering towards the door. "But you are expected for lunch in ten minutes so there's no time for fun."

And then, he was slipping out of the door like the former ninja he was, completely escaping Ichigo's glare of death, which he had learned from the master.

Silence descended on the room. There was a rustle of cloth as Byakuya stood, idly adjusting his own nemaki until it was more presentable.

Remembering his own rather embarrassing plea, it took all of his self-control not to blush again. "Thanks," Ichigo mumbled and watched Byakuya from the corner of his eye. "For staying, I mean."

Grey eyes looked at him without the slightest hint of discomfort. "It was my choice," Byakuya responded. "And you don't have to thank me for everything."

"I know." He stepped towards the door, pausing in the entryway and looking back at Byakuya with a hint of a smile on his lips. "But I'm going to anyway."

Amusement flittered across Byakuya's expression. "Kurosaki stubbornness," he teased, though it was with fondness.

Ichigo chuckled to himself and disappeared out the door, leaving Byakuya to whatever it was the noble needed to do before he was ready to present himself to the world. His children were waiting for him, after all.

* * *

 


	23. Burdens

"You know, I'm surprised the sixth division hasn't completely crumbled, too," Ichigo murmured wonderingly, the statement directed at his visitor.

He wasn't exactly looking at Byakuya, more like pretending to go over the massive stack of documents that had built up in his extended absence. One hand propped his head on his desk, the other fiddled with a dry brush, which hadn't managed to dip into ink in the past few hours he had been sitting in his office. Ichigo knew that he was supposed to be doing his work, that he _needed_ to be doing his work but couldn't seem to dredge up the wherewithal to do so.

Paperwork was good because it was mindless, empty, and required little brain function. But that was also its downfall because it allowed him time to think, to reflect on the empty feeling still echoing in his heart. While Rukia's loss was being balanced by the support he received from family and friends – and Byakuya more notably – he still couldn't shake the sorrow.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Kuchiki noble lifting one brow. "Rikichi is more than adequate at handling matters in my absence," he replied, hands actually busy doing a nice-sized stack of Ichigo's paperwork. "Which is something more than I could have said for Renji."

Ichigo snorted and gave up on pretending. Instead, he rolled his eyes towards Byakuya, watching the noble quietly do some of his work for him. It was true that Byakuya spent less time in his division recently, but Rikichi didn't complain, just like Yumichika. In fact, he almost seemed to encourage it with a sneaky sort of smile on his face that made Ichigo think his own vice-captain had had a little talk with the younger man. Yumichika's manipulations showing through, he supposed.

Still, he couldn't continue to dump everything on Yumichika. Ichigo knew that he had to pull himself together. He'd spent a lot of time restoring the fifth division, putting all his effort into weeding out the remnants of Aizen's leadership. And despite all the menial documents and meddling of the upper echelons, he liked being a captain. He wanted to do a good job by his subordinates. Which meant no more skipping out for his personal problems, even if everyone understood.

Which reminded him...

"Hey, Byakuya?"

His hands didn't once pause in flicking through the papers, even though Ichigo had given him the more boring ones just because he could. "Hmm?"

"I have to clean out Rukia's apartment," he said quietly, surprising himself with how he managed to say his wife's name without the painful clench that usually accompanied it. "Are you free on Saturday?"

The brush stopped in its movement, and Byakuya lifted his gaze. "I will be in the afternoon, yes," he answered, a look of almost surprise on his face. Grey eyes searched Ichigo's expression, but the other captain was being purposefully evasive.

"Good." Ichigo took a deep breath, gaze sliding to the window and autumn that was swiftly descending beyond it. "I'll need some help, if you don't mind."

There was just an edge of hesitance to his voice, but he wondered if Byakuya even noticed it at all. He didn't much like asking for help, but he could also recognize when it was necessary. And no matter how much Ichigo wanted to be able to do it on his own, he knew that he couldn't.

"Of course I don't," Byakuya answered with no hesitation on his part. They'd had this discussion before, after all. "Will Tohru look after the children?"

Ichigo nodded and finally resorted to working on his paperwork, noting that Byakuya had also returned to filling out his own stack. "Just the twins though. I thought that seeing Kaien and Syaoran might be good for Jyuushiro."

The Kuchiki noble made a noise of agreement, though it sounded just as tired of sorrow as Ichigo felt. "You may be right," he replied, penning the last line with a flick of his wrist and placing the paper on the rest of the stack. He was nearly finished. "Kira-san is worried about him."

"I am, too."

A week. Barely a week had passed since Rukia's death and still her loss could be felt heavily in the Gotei-13. Luckily, there were no pressing matters that needed attending since several of the captains were out of commission for days afterward.

The matter of the strange Hollow had been solved thanks to what Rukia had discovered, the second division able to track them back to their nest and eradicate every last one. It seemed that Akon had discovered that although they were able to make their reiatsu vanish, they still left small signatures behind that the Shinigami were able to follow. Much like a dog following a scent.

Her death had not been in vain, but that made it no easier to bear. Ichigo's children still cried themselves to sleep when they thought no one was listening. Kaien had pulled into himself even more than before, hiding behind a sulking wall. Syaoran clung to the nearest adult at every opportunity. His house was noticeably quieter, and that bothered Ichigo more than anything.

He could handle his own pain to a certain agree. Could lock it down if necessary or find an outlet. But seeing it in his children made him feel even more a failure than before. As if he really couldn't protect them, no matter how much he tried.

" _You can't protect them from everything_ ," Isshin had told him.

He could see the logic in that statement, could understand what his father was saying. But that didn't mean Ichigo didn't try his damnedest. Children were meant to be happy, to smile, to be spoiled. They weren't meant to suffer the loss of a parent and especially not so soon after other troubles.

And as for his pain, it would have been a lot worse if he didn't have the support of others around him. While Orihime had her hands full with Renji who regarded Rukia's loss as that of a sibling, she still found time to offer Ichigo consolation. And Byakuya was never far from his side, a constant presence as they shared their grief. Thanks to that, Ichigo wasn't drowning in his heartache.

Jyuushiro suffered in his own way as well. He had lost his cherished vice-captain for the second time, as well as a woman he had taken under his wing. Like an even more precious daughter. Someone he had watched blossom under his tutelage from a shy, withdrawn fledgling to a strong and dependable vice-captain.

With a sigh, Byakuya finished the last of his stack and pushed it to the side, his part of the paperwork completed. "It will be difficult, but I'm sure Jyuushiro will recover. He has plenty of support, after all."

Ichigo made a noncommittal sound in his throat and returned to staring at his paperwork. Requisitions and patrol records and a reminder that it was time to create the new schedule stared back at him. Picking up his brush, he reluctantly started signing his name to the supply requests, while Byakuya began to serve the tea that had been patiently waiting for them the background. The sound of pottery and liquid was a familiar and soothing noise.

Not unexpectedly, Ichigo found his thoughts wandering. It was easy for them to do so when all he was doing was penning his name on a line and moving on to the next sheet. His eyes momentarily flickered to Byakuya, enjoying his first sip of the tea, before obediently returning to his paperwork.

He realized that they hadn't had their official talk yet. The one that stated what they planned from each other, what they wanted, and what they were going to do about it. Yet, they had been gradually becoming more comfortable around one another again. The initial hesitancy once the truth had emerged was beginning to fade around the edges.

He could remember, with a faint darkening of his cheeks, holding Byakuya and sharing a bed. His arms recalled the warmth that the noble had exuded, and the scent of cherry blossoms that Byakuya seemed to be bathed in. He remembered the contradictory feelings of wanting to kiss Byakuya and knowing he shouldn't. But most of all, he remembered the feeling of comfort he had attained in the other man's presence. He had just lost his wife, suffered his children's pain, but he felt he could make it. That he was being strengthened by his brother-in-law's presence.

He knew that a part of him should probably feel guilty. That others might see it as him replacing Rukia all too quickly. But he could never do that, replace her in his heart. She held a special place, and nothing would ever usurp her. Yet, Byakuya had his own place as well, and Ichigo could no more cast him aside then he could toss away his feelings for his former wife.

Ichigo couldn't do this alone. Raise his children and take care of himself, hold himself together. He wanted Byakuya in his life, he realized. Even more so than the supporting character he had been. He wanted Byakuya next to him, sharing everything.

"Ichigo-kun," Yumichika called out as he bustled into the room, through the doorway that Ichigo had left open on purpose since he still wanted to encourage his subordinates to be friendly. The vice-captain's abrupt entrance disturbed Ichigo's thoughts suddenly, sending him scrambling from his memories.

"I've brought today's mail," he explained cheerily, arms laden with documents and folded envelopes.

"And here I thought it was more paperwork," Ichigo faintly grumbled in response and reached up to take the stack of parchment. He would leave the rest of his realizations for later, as they were putting a color to his face that was quite revealing.

His grumbling was ignored as Yumichika turned to sparkle in Byakuya's direction. "Good afternoon, Kuchiki-taichou. How is your division today?"

"If that is what you call a subtle way of reminding me of my own duties, you failed," Byakuya responded dryly. "And it is running fine, thank you."

Yumichika merely smiled, dumping the rest of his captain's mail on Ichigo's desk in a heap. "Just looking out for Rikichi-kun," the vice-captain responded. "But I'm sure he can handle it."

Lifting a brow as he began sifting through the stacks of what appeared to be mostly letters, Ichigo shook his head. "No harassing your commanding officers, Yumichika," he warned, though it was clearly obvious he was teasing. It was a game they had played before.

Purple eyes cast a penetrating gaze over both men. "Just a little reminder, taichou," he responded as he straightened, task completed. "No provocation in mind."

Ichigo gave a little dismissive wave, the heaviness weighing him down inside lifting with such familiar banter.

The look that Yumichika cast on Byakuya was nearly predatory. "Though if I had such a distraction in my office, I doubt I would be able to complete any of my work either," he purred in his captain's direction, his meaning quite obvious.

Eyes widening in surprise, Ichigo felt a heat steal into his cheeks. "Yumichika," he hissed, hand slapping down on his paperwork to cover his shock. "Don't you have something you need to be doing?"

Chuckling to himself, Yumichika merely winked at Byakuya, who was suffering from his own mortification. "Now that I think about it, there were some requests I needed to screen before sending them your way. I'll just get right on that, taichou."

As Yumichika flittered his way out the door, both captain's watched his exit with varying levels of amusement. Byakuya calmly sipped his tea, musing into the warm liquid. "He would make a fine captain one day," he murmured.

Ichigo sighed and put aside important documents that needed to be signed and a letter from his sisters that he would take home and read. "Don't say that. Then, I'll be forced to find another vice-captain and convincing him to leave Zaraki was difficult enough."

A small smile tugged at Byakuya's lips at the thought. He sipped at his tea, well remembering Ichigo's frustration in finding a suitable vice-captain and his victory in acquiring Yumichika. It hadn't been easy to drag the fifth-seat from his place in the eleventh division, but with Kurosaki stubbornness, Ichigo had succeeded.

"What is this?"

The strange note in Ichigo's voice drew Byakuya's attention back towards his brother-in-law. He was surprised to find the easygoing expression wiped from Ichigo's face, instead replaced by a deeply furrowed brow of confusion with aggravation threatening to seep back into it. Dropping his sight, Byakuya found that Ichigo was glaring at the stack of envelopes, the first of them opened and between his hands. A vaguely familiar symbol was cracked down the middle where Ichigo had broken open the seam.

He tipped his head to the side. "Ichigo?"

"I can't believe this," he hissed angrily, suddenly crumpling the paper with his fingers and tossing it in the direction of the wastebasket. Instead it pinged off the wall and fell to the floor.

Recognition dawned on the Kuchiki noble, who had seen far too many of that particular symbol in the past ten years or so. They represented the Higurashi, a relatively low-ranked clan of nobles who specialized in marriage proposals, most often between high-ranked families. And recently, the Kuchiki had been one of their biggest clients, despite Byakuya's firm refusal to attend any of the meetings.

"Ichigo?"

His query was distinctly ignored as Ichigo shot to his feet, rattling the desk with the bottom of his knees on his way up. "They can't possibly believe this is what I want," he snarled at no one in particular and glared ocular fire at the remaining piles of parchment on his desk, all unopened letters. "Rukia's only in the ground for a few days, and my inbox is full of these? Have they no shame?"

Byakuya could only watch as Ichigo seethed, his reiatsu slamming against the walls and rattling paintings and pictures in their frames. The items on his desk shuddered warningly, many planning on making suicidal dives for the floor. The noise was enough to make Ichigo realize just what was happening, and he forcefully clamped down on his reiatsu, dragging it back into his control. Shirosaki boiled within him.

But every time he saw the stacks of white, carefully folded paper on his desk, it awoke again. Twisting his jaw, Ichigo began to pace, taking great pains not to look at his desktop and wishing that the damned things would mysteriously disappear. It was insulting; it was infuriating. Not just for himself but for Rukia as well. He could not replace her like that, not so easily and not so quickly.

Oh, they were not so callous to outright ask him for marriage. But Ichigo, who had learned to play a good bit of the Kuchiki politics, knew what their cautiously crafted invitations were. Offers of a light lunch or something similar were pre-courting rituals. The single women of high rank couldn't wait to sink their claws into him. He wasn't going to suffer any of it. Hell, he wasn't even going to bother with a polite refusal.

Sitting in silence, Byakuya watched as Ichigo fumed, mind locked in its furious cage. He realized that it was probably best if he kept his silence for the moment, not that he really had the words to say. Instead, he inched backwards a step and very quietly reached to slide the door shut. Ichigo didn't even notice the motion, too locked in a fury that was strengthened by the confusing tumult of emotions he had been laboring under for the past week.

Ichigo for his part found the small space within his office insufficient for his pacing. He paused in the middle of his rant and stared hatefully at the stack on his desk. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed the pile into his arms, probably grabbing other important documents as well, and dumped it all into the trashcan. If the damn paperwork was that necessary, it would be sent again when it wasn't returned on time.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath, feeling no satisfaction as he watched the envelopes – colored and plain alike – drop into the wastebasket. His hands balled into useless fists at his side.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Nothing was really. He had done everything like he was supposed to. He had saved the world, though with the help of many others admittedly. He had married the woman he loved. He made his decisions concerning his life and had children. He became an adult. He did everything right. So why was it so fucked up?

He had loved Rukia, and he still loved her in his own way. That would never change. But they had separated, and they had been learning to live lives apart from one another. And now, she was gone never to return without a chance for them to ever completely reconcile. The other day had been a start, but it hadn't been enough. And Ichigo had known that.

Now, his children didn't have their mother. Not even the dimmest outline of her presence in their future lives. Nothing but memories, the last of which were tainted by sorrow and feelings of abandonment, even if they had fought the latter to the bitter end.

And worse, everyone knew about it. They were all aware of the circumstances. But they still sent the proposals, still pried their nosey little fingers into his life. It was enough to make him ill. Sick of the politics and the words games and the prying, curious stares.

Dragging the frantic pacing to a halt, he lifted his hands and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes where it felt like a painful throb was beginning. "Fuckin' hell," he cursed under his breath, having nearly forgotten about his visitor. "Where's a goddamn war when you need one?"

The question was rhetorical, but a part of Ichigo felt as if he really meant it. His fingers were cramped and twitched; he was hanging on the end of a frayed rope. He had been playing the proper part, trying to grieve and heal at the same time. Trying to be there for his children and for Byakuya, trying to move on and keep up with his life. But nothing could ever be simple for him; he had learned that the hard way.

Byakuya couldn't stand to see him like that and grasped for a solution, thinking that Ichigo had been holding himself in from the beginning, that he needed an outlet. But the only one he could possibly fight in this state was...

"I might not be able to start a war, but I can give you the next best thing," he said, setting down his unfinished tea. He had barely drunk more than a sip from it.

This was a risk, and they were likely to tear each other apart. But like him, Ichigo was a warrior, and sometimes, they needed that release. He would simply have to make sure nothing lethal occurred.

One brown eye shifted to him, awaiting the suggestion with such a flagrant hope that Byakuya nearly crumpled at the sight. "Zaraki has complained about the lack of a good battle lately," he suggested, hoping that he wasn't making a horrible mistake.

Ichigo blinked. "Are you actually suggesting that I pick a fight with Zaraki Kenpachi?"

He winced at the wording but doggedly continued, "If you want to look at it that way. It may be what you need."

The pacing ceased as Ichigo considered his proposition. "You're right," he finally admitted after a moment of lengthy thought. "I need to let off some steam, and Kenpachi won't fuss about it."

"Not until you finish your paperwork, Ichigo-kun!" floated in from behind the door cheerfully.

Ichigo's eyes briefly narrowed as he glanced towards the outer office, wondering how Yumichika could have heard their voices. More proof of why he had been able to control the eleventh division so well.

Byakuya was somewhat amused by this. He lowered his tone and hinted very subtly. "Every office is equipped with an... exit strategy. An escape out the back, if you will," he reminded Ichigo.

By the look on Ichigo's face, he was quite ready to utilize it as well. Which was why, a few minutes later, they were surreptitiously fleeing his office and heading towards the eleventh division. Byakuya could read the anticipation on Ichigo's face and wondered if his Hollow was getting just as eager. There was just the slightest edge to his reiatsu, and it was somewhat worrisome. But he wasn't going to take his suggestion back either. Ichigo needed it.

They made it to the eleventh division in short time and were met by Kenpachi in the front, his zanpakutou already slung across his back in anticipation.

"About damn time," he grunted at them, one eye gleaming eagerly. "I was wonderin' when you'd get around to fightin' me again."

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow at him, ever the confident one. "The usual place?"

"Course." Kenpachi's gaze slid to Byakuya. "Hime fightin', too?"

With some shame, Byakuya remembered taking part in one of their ridiculously bloody and destructive spars. All because Ichigo had asked him and he was weak to Ichigo's requests. But after having to camp out at the fourth division for a day or so, he vowed he would never do so again. Not to mention, it seemed Kenpachi would never forget the incident and constantly goaded him afterwards.

He drew his shoulders straight. "I am merely an observer," Byakuya explained and the hint of steel in his voice proved that was all he was going to be.

Kenpachi shrugged. "No matter," he responded and shifted his attention back to the third captain. "Ready to go, Ichigo?"

The surge of reiatsu, barely containing the seeds of anger, was all the answer Kenpachi needed. A fanged grin split his lips before the two of them disappeared, using a flit of shunpo to take them to the large arena nearby that was already used to their destructive bouts. Before it had been an old stadium used for tournaments between the Shinigami, but when that practice had fallen aside so did the arena. It slipped into disrepair. And now, no one cared just how much it was destroyed. A shame really.

Byakuya moved to follow the two and found one of the remaining seats in the arena, still intact. Lowering himself onto the carved stone, he watched as Kenpachi and Ichigo faced off against each other. Zanpakutou drawn and ready, all sense of amusement gone. Frowning a bit, Byakuya concentrated on the feel of Ichigo's reiatsu. Again, the shock of alarm that rattled through him was worrisome. An unhealthy rage had been building inside Ichigo. He began to wonder if this had been such a good idea.

He watched as the spar began, Ichigo taking the first move with a furious rush forward. Their blades met in a fierce ring that sang through the empty arena. And then, it was the song of battle as they traded blows, kicking up dust beneath their feet and managing minor injuries one on the other.

The sound of feet on stone dragged Byakuya's attention from the duel to his right, where Yachiru had suddenly appeared, perching on a higher seat than his own. The look of childish play was gone from her face.

"Ichi's not himself today," she commented seriously, gaze pinned on the two battlers.

Byakuya didn't answer her, but really, he couldn't agree more. He returned to the spar, drawn more by Ichigo's attacks than Kenpachi's response. He found his mind wandering, wondering if he was even managing to help Ichigo at all. Or if he was only making things worse by being there as a constant reminder.

Reiatsu split from the fighting men in increasing strength and tore out chunks of the arena's foundation and remaining stands. A stray _getsuga tenshou_ cleaved off the top of one of the remaining parapets before heading straight for the sky. Zaraki's zanpakutou ripped through Ichigo's defenses, catching his right side and tearing away fabric. He left a small cut behind, seeping blood. But nothing fatal. Ichigo's response was to throw a small kidoh in Zaraki's direction, the captain twisting to avoid it.

A part of Byakuya felt pride for having taught Ichigo that spell. Another part of him increased his worry because Ichigo rarely resorted to using kidoh in any battle. In fact, it was more or less a last resort for him. Which wasn't the case here. It seemed more like he had used it just to throw off some of his excess energy.

Realizations pierced through Byakuya's mind. Ichigo was not fighting as well as usual. His reactions were slower than they should have been, and he was abandoning openings that Kenpachi so clearly left him. It appeared he was just throwing himself into the spar with little regard to either his safety or tactics.

And Kenpachi realized it as well. There was a frown on his face rather than a grin of enjoyment. And the arena was silent, save for the crashing of their zanpakutou together. Usually, by this time, Kenpachi would either cackle or taunt his opponent. And Ichigo would respond, growling and spitting back his own taunts as their friendship usually contained. The lack of conversation unnerved Byakuya, and he wondered if this had truly been a good idea.

The sudden belief that Ichigo was only going to get himself hurt, turning the friendly spar into something inimical. He very clearly had no aims to stop anytime soon. And if he wasn't mistaken, almost golden eyes were beginning to take on a distinctive shade that had no business in a duel between two friends.

This was more than just letting off steam; this was Ichigo slipping into a desire to inflict true pain. Influence of his Hollow no doubt along with a hefty dose of repressed rage and irritation. Perhaps even pain.

Byakuya rose to his feet with every intention to stop the battle here and now. This wasn't healthy in the slightest, and Ichigo needed to cease. Now. But before he could even take a step, he watched as Kenpachi pulled back.

"Enough," Kenpachi declared, eying the fluctuating reiatsu surrounding Ichigo with a strange expression on his face. "I'm done."

Ichigo snarled, eyes narrowing. "This fight isn't over," he growled, fingers tightening in their grip on Zangetsu's hilt.

"It is ta me," Kenpachi answered and wriggled a finger in his ear nonchalantly. His stance had relaxed, dropping from battle-ready to bored. "Ya ain't really into it anyway. It's no fun when you're like that."

Pursing his lips, Ichigo's nostrils flared. "I didn't think you were the type to run from a fight," he attempted to incite.

The eleventh-division captain tipped his head to the side, not to be goaded either. "And I didn't think ya were so weak you'd pick a fight like this."

As Ichigo glared at him, Kenpachi took his zanpakutou and slung the blade over one shoulder. "I'm done here," he added and turned away, free hand idly dropping to one of his bleeding wounds. All superficial.

Annoyance filled Ichigo's countenance, and he turned back towards Byakuya, dissolving the bankai he had summoned at some point during the fight. He had just as many injuries as Kenpachi, most of them trivial, and his shihakushou was ripped and torn in places. But he would live.

Byakuya, who had stepped down until he was at ground level, met him near one of the collapsed exits. "Did it work?" he asked and quietly searched Ichigo's face with his eyes.

His best friend shook his head, pinning Zangetsu on his back and accepting the heavy weight of his blade. "Maybe. I don't really know." He sighed heavily, feeling more drained than he had before. "Mostly, I just feel tired."

Byakuya could understand. He just wished he knew how to make it better. Ichigo looked like he was handling Rukia's loss well, but instead, he was still brimming with emotion. It would take a long time before he would be completely able to accept her death. Byakuya knew because he felt much the same, and he wasn't the only one being bombarded with marriage offers.

Running his hand through his hair, Ichigo exhaled heavily. "I guess I'll head back to the office. Face Yumichika's wrath."

"Only slightly more terrifying than the thought of Zaraki's bankai," Byakuya added.

It took only a second for Ichigo realize that it was a joke, and the slight smile that cracked his lips was a victory to Byakuya. His sense of humor, rarely utilized, was a secret weapon.

"Yeah, just a bit," he agreed. "You?"

Idly patting down wrinkles that weren't really present, Byakuya mused for all of a second. "I suppose I had better make sure my division hasn't collapsed in my absence. Rikichi is capable, but when overwhelmed, he makes small mistakes."

"To each his own," Ichigo murmured, turning towards the healer patiently waiting to tend to his wounds; she had probably been summoned by a wise Yachiru. "Dinner?"

Byakuya found a smile on his lips. He hadn't lost Ichigo just yet. "Of course."

Inclining his head, the faraway look came a little closer to home as his gaze shifted to the sixth-division captain. "Thanks, Byakuya."

"Someday, you will learn I don't need them," he chided and then stepped away in a flit of shunpo towards his own office. The warming flutter in his heart all he needed to confirm that his feelings weren't fading anytime soon. He had fallen fast and hard and was now fully enmeshed in Ichigo. There was no escape, not that he wanted.

\-------

Silent and still. Those were the first things that Ichigo registered as he slid open the door to Rukia's apartment and stepped inside. It felt as if his every footstep echoed loudly, and a familiar scent still hung in the air. Rukia's scent. It struck a pang though his heart, one that he couldn't quite ignore.

Firming his resolve, Ichigo clenched his fingers around the pack of folded boxes he carried and forced himself to enter completely. Behind him, Byakuya followed, keeping his silence as he noticed Ichigo's hesitancy. He didn't want to push, feeling his own reluctance for stepping into Rukia's last home.

Setting down the stack of cardboard, Ichigo picked up the one at the top of the pile and began to unfold it, popping the sides into place. The noise seemed uncommonly loud amongst all the silence. It unnerved him. Keeping his attention focused on the menial chore, however, was half a distraction. It would do for now.

Byakuya stepped up beside him, and Ichigo handed the completed box over, flaps smacking against the side with a hollow slap that echoed. The noble took it but couldn't completely wipe the look of confusion from his face. It was clear that he had never done this sort of thing before.

"Just grab anything in the kitchen that's non-perishable and put it in the box," Ichigo explained, reaching for his own box and mechanically folding it into proper position. "I'll start here."

Nodding, Byakuya turned towards the kitchen, visible just through a nearby doorway, only to pause. "Ichigo…" His name was an unworded question.

"I'm fine," Ichigo answered, perhaps a bit more tersely than was believable. But he had to say it to make it true, even if it was a lie. "I can do this."

The look he received in return was piercing, as if Byakuya was trying to look straight through him, before the noble inclined his head slowly. "I'll help you with the bedroom." He left no room for argument.

Ichigo didn't even look at him, already grabbing Rukia's belongings scattered around the living room and placing them into the box with dull thumps. He wanted to say that he could handle it himself, that it wasn't _that_ hard, but he knew it would be a lie. Besides, it wasn't as if Byakuya hadn't already seen him at his weakest. There wasn't much room left for him to fall.

"Fine," he agreed and left it at that. Several moments later, he heard the sound of Byakuya retreating to the kitchen and the subsequent noises of cabinets being opened and closed.

The silence in the apartment was really unnerving. He wondered how Rukia had managed to survive it. Cold and barren and quiet except for the occasional rattle of noise outside. Or maybe it just seemed that hushed to him because of what being there meant. That here he was, his wife barely laid to rest, rifling through her belongings and packing them away.

He would have to do it at the house soon enough, and Ichigo dreaded that and contemplated just leaving everything where it was. The lingering remains of what she had left behind when she had moved out. Frankly, it just seemed so callous. But it had to be done, and so he did it, idly picking up her things and placing them into the box.

A paperback, something sappy from the real world, with a crease in the binding as it was left open on the floor, marking the spot where she had left off. A lamp, handmade and also from the real world. A birthday gift from Yuzu if he remembered correctly. Flowers were pressed into the paper shade. He tested the switch, causing a faint glow to appear behind the opaque screen. He flicked it off again and stowed it in the box as well.

Ichigo turned towards the next end table and paused, hand hovering what rested atop it. A picture frame, one of the few that Rukia had taken with her. He recognized the scene behind the thin glass, taken not too long after the twins were born. If he recalled correctly, Byakuya had been the photographer, capturing the moment happy parents had returned home to introduce the newest members of their family.

He swallowed as he plucked the frame from its position, eyes tracing over the misleading scene. Even then… even then, Rukia hadn't been entirely happy. And he hadn't even noticed. Too wrapped up in his own excitement over the twins, he hadn't realized how much her own feelings tore at her.

He should have known, should have noticed. She had been thrilled to be returning to her position. She had been looking forward to proving her strength, that she was suited to the vice-captaincy for her own abilities and not for her associations. She had been waiting decades for it, especially since her brother had finally loosened his reins.

She loved her children; Ichigo knew that. But in many ways, it was because of Mikan and Ryuunosuke that she wasn't able to return to active duty as quickly as she had planned. The twins had been an unexpected and wonderful surprise, and he knew she wouldn't have given them up for anything. Her frustration had therefore transferred itself to Ichigo. Thinking back, he didn't mind that so much. Not if it meant she didn't resent her children.

In many ways, Ichigo had failed her. Perhaps they were doomed from that moment. Perhaps not. Maybe their relationship could have been saved if he had paid attention. Or maybe that was just fate in the works. But Ichigo had never been the sort to lie down and wait for destiny.

And constantly running what ifs through his mind was proving to be an emotional trudge through agony. It wasn't getting him anywhere, especially now that it was too late. He was only making things worse. Drowning in his guilt would solve nothing, and he had the feeling that Rukia would scowl at him if she knew how much he was brooding, as she would have called it.

Biting his lip, Ichigo gently placed the photograph into the box and continued to pack up the rest of the living area. There really wasn't much left, and he finished within a few minutes; the box was only half-full, plenty of room remaining for a few more objects. Rising to his feet, Ichigo brushed dust off the knees of his hakama and silently moved to the kitchen. Peeking in on Byakuya, he found the Kuchiki lord frowning over two items, obviously trying to decide if one should be packed or not. It was kind of cute, if Ichigo thought about it. As a noble, he had probably never had to do this sort of labor himself.

Figuring that Byakuya could handle it himself, Ichigo crept away and left him to his work. One other room remained other than the adjoining bathroom. Steeling himself, Ichigo headed for the bedroom, despite what he had agreed to earlier. He was an adult, after all. He could handle a few memories.

In the kitchen, Byakuya stopped trying to decipher the labels on the two bottles he held and threw them both into the box. If it didn't need to be kept, Ichigo could just throw it away later. It wasn't like he really knew what he was doing. And honestly, there was little in the kitchen that counted as an actual belonging.

His box was only half full, containing mostly some dishes, towels, and pot holders. It appeared that Rukia ate out often since there was very little in the way of food. He found a few drawings by Syaoran tacked to the walls, brightening up the small room considerably. He had taken those down and carefully folded them. The rest of it, however, was standard issue, down to the curtains and most of the dishware. It wasn't unlike staying in a hotel.

Frowning to himself, Byakuya hefted the box in one arm and wandered back into the main room. Ichigo was nowhere to be seen, his half-empty box sitting abandoned on the floor. A quick glance proved that the room had been emptied of personal possessions and that another of the empty boxes Ichigo had brought with him had disappeared. Which really left only one other place for his brother-in-law to be.

Resisting the urge to sigh at Ichigo's stubbornness, Byakuya placed his box near the one Ichigo had left behind and grabbed the last empty one. Idly attempting to unfold it with marginal success, he headed for the bedroom with quiet footsteps that would have made Yoruichi proud. Stepping into the open doorway, he found Ichigo as he had expected. The other man was kneeling on the ground, open packing container on the floor to his right, and he appeared to be cradling something in his lap. A smaller box that was brightly colored. His reiatsu radiated sorrow, despite his every effort to contain it.

Byakuya quietly set the box he had brought down, misshapen and sagging on one side, just within the doorway. Opening his mouth to call Ichigo's attention, he was surprised when the other captain beat him to it.

"She loved them," Ichigo stated, voice carrying easily in the silence. Cracked but not broken. "She distanced herself, but by kami, she loved them."

Shoulders hunched against a foe without face or form, the sight of Ichigo was enough to make Byakuya's own heart ache. To quote his nephew, it simply wasn't fair. Byakuya swallowed thickly, searching for the right words and wishing that all those lessons in etiquette had been exchanged for lessons in how to interact with society normally and comfort those who meant something to him.

"Of course she did," he replied and marveled at himself for answering with a steady tone that didn't betray his own emotions. "Rukia loved her children. There was never any doubt of that." He stepped completely into the room and lowered himself to the floor beside Ichigo, somehow managing not to make a fool of himself in the process. "And I know she loved you as well."

He heard more than saw Ichigo draw in a shuddering breath. "I know."

Byakuya didn't even have to think for his next move. In fact, he would think back afterwards and recall and realize he had acted without prior consideration. Intuition had served him best. Lifting a hand, he set it on Ichigo's shoulder and simply squeezed. A gesture of comfort, an offer of kinship. Just there, take it as one will.

This pain Ichigo was suffering, whatever he was running ragged through his head. This was the reason why Byakuya hadn't wanted him to tackle Rukia's sleeping quarters on his own. Here, her presence was strongest. Her scent hung heavier in this room, and the walls were breathing with her reiatsu, practically emanating an icy chill. This room kept the objects she had considered most precious.

But he didn't say " _I told you so._ " Such an immature response was nowhere near his tongue. In fact, all he offered was wordless consolation.

He waited with bated breath until Ichigo reached up and squeezed his fingers with his free hand, skin cool to the touch. Likely an effect of Rukia's lingering reiatsu in the room. Only then did Byakuya breathe again. And then, Ichigo was handing him the colorfully wrapped package.

"For Syaoran," Ichigo explained, tone still somewhat reverent. "She must have been waiting to give it to her."

He took the offered object and glanced at it. Not too heavy or too light, packed tightly within so that whatever it was didn't shift around. A gentle shake revealed a lack of noise. Byakuya didn't believe that it was anything breakable. But he wasn't going to open it either. That was for Syaoran and Syaoran alone, a last present from mother to daughter.

Byakuya glanced around and placed it on a nearby dresser with a faint sigh. "I said I would help you," he reminded Ichigo, disliking the sense of melancholy, even stronger than before, that had pervaded the room.

The other captain nodded and slowly began to pick up other objects around him, placing them with care into the box. "Yeah, but…" He didn't have a reason to offer so he left it at that.

Byakuya watched him for another long moment before deciding to leave the conversation ended. Instead, he moved to another portion of the room and began packing up what he found there. Personal toiletries. Another picture frame, this time one of the entire gang in Karakura. Everything fleeting that meant anything to his sister.

He was struck by how empty her quarters really had been. There were necessities and evidence of her old life at her old home. There were memories. But there wasn't anything to show that she really lived and not merely existed. No signs that she did anything more than work and sit alone in a silent apartment.

He wondered if she ever went out or spent time with the friends who remained loyal to her. And then he realized that he, too, had been a failure of a support. His initial anger had been much to blame for that, but really, he should have been there for her more. He had rationalized it by saying that Ichigo needed him more, that Ichigo was the victim. Yet, Rukia had been suffering just as much.

She felt the brunt of the damaging rumors. Had to deal with the stares and the whispers and the accusations. With others watching her and wondering, with those she had considered friends abandoning her. With the Kuchiki wanting to remove her from the family. Not to mention having to watch her husband and her brother grow even closer, no matter what she had tried to do.

Byakuya thought that he understood in that very moment just why Rukia had found herself drowning in a painful anger. And why it had turned to violence. Frustration was a terrible feeling, and it had only grown worse with time.

It did not excuse her actions in the slightest, but he felt that this fate was a bit too cruel for her. And no one had even stopped to look at it through her eyes, had only seen the pain she inflicted. The outside world, those who had no part, hadn't even seen how both of them – Ichigo and Rukia – carried the blame. Not for the violence; that was Rukia alone. But for the circumstances surrounding their family.

And for his part, Byakuya did as well. Even if it hadn't been intentional, as the two closest to her, one of them should have noticed. They should have seen the pain she was hiding. But they hadn't, and for that, Byakuya could only believe that they had been selfish.

It truly was a situation where nothing was black and white. He had known immediately of Rukia's regret for her actions. It was obvious in her attempts to draw away. How much had it hurt, he wondered, for her to pull away from her family in the hopes that it would fix whatever had poisoned her? How often had she asked herself if it would help to ask someone else for aid or if anyone would even understand? Perhaps she'd had a bit too much of the Kuchiki pride in her.

Guilt descended on Byakuya so quickly he didn't know what to do with the crushing feeling. He hadn't been there for her when he should have, and it was ultimately a sobering realization. He could argue that she was free now, that her death had brought her some sort of liberation from the emotional pain her life had recently been steeped in. But that was as much of an excuse as everything else.

"Byakuya?"

Blinking, Byakuya broke from his contemplative stupor, looking down to find that his fingers had paused, locked around the picture frame that hovered in the air, halfway between shelf and box. On the edge of his vision, he caught sight of Ichigo giving him a worried look. Understandable, considering he had spaced out for several long moments.

He looked at his brother-in-law and felt the guilt again. But he also felt determination. He would not give Ichigo up, this emotion one that Rukia had suffered for. To do so would be a dishonor to her pain.

Such a dangerous thing, love. It so easily broke a person but just as easily healed them all the same.

He shook his head and forced himself to return to packing the last bits of his sister's life. "It's nothing," he murmured, not wanting to burden Ichigo with his sudden understanding. His friend had enough on his shoulders.

He knew from the measuring glance he was given that Ichigo didn't quite believe him. But he wasn't going to press either. They had long ago reached the place in their friendship where they understood that if one wanted to talk about it, he would come to the other with time.

They shared minimal conversation as they packed up the rest of Rukia's belongings, the entire affair lasting little more than another hour. In the end, they emerged with four good-sized boxes. What remained would either be donated to one of the many Rukongai orphanages or left behind for the next tenant, such as the furniture.

"Where do you want them?" Byakuya asked as they stepped out of the apartment, Ichigo locking it behind him.

He watched as the orange-haired man bent to pick up two of the boxes, a bit bulkier than the ones Byakuya carried. "I was just going to take them home," Ichigo answered quietly. "I'll let the children look through them when they get a little older. Other than the pictures."

Byakuya inclined his head in understanding, still distracted by his earlier thoughts. He made a noncommittal sound in his throat, letting the lingering warmth of autumn wash over him.

The sounds of the nearby thirteenth division floated to his ears as they headed away from Rukia's quarters. It appeared that Ukitake was putting his lower-seats through their paces today. And if he concentrated, he could feel the glimmer of reiatsu that was Kiyone and Sentarou, once again raised to a near lieutenant status. However, they had refrained from arguing recently, which wasn't unexpected.

Jyuushiro's own grief was still a heavy pain to them, and they sought to make life easier on their captain. Byakuya had the feeling that the lack of their bickering might have actually made things worse. And he also knew that the thirteenth division wouldn't be seeing a new vice-captain anytime this century. No matter what Chamber 46 pressed or demanded, Jyuushiro would not be pushed to make a decision. Byakuya admired his senpai for his strength.

For the moment, however, it seemed that caring for the children was the only thing that brought a smile to Jyuushiro's face. Perhaps seeing Rukia in them that gave him cheer again. Or their sweet innocence. Either way, they were responsible for keeping their adoptive grandfather from falling into a complete depression. Which was why at this current moment both Kaien and Syaoran were under Jyuushiro's care.

A comfortable silence had settled between Ichigo and Byakuya as they headed away from Rukia's last residence. Neither seemed to mind it too much. Sometimes, words weren't necessary.

* * *

 


	24. Of Blame

 

"This table really is too big for just two," Jyuushiro commented as he swept his gaze over those gathered around him, the darkness lifting around his eyes at having so many of who he considered his family near to him.

At a glance, Ichigo could see that Jyuushiro still appeared haggard and worn, as though he hadn't had any decent sleep in the past week or so, which was likely true. And yet, he was set to return to regular duties the next day. Ichigo knew that he could probably use more time but also that his division needed him now more than ever.

Izuru smiled. "Yes, it is nice to have everyone together," he said pleasantly, trying to keep the atmosphere around the table enjoyable, despite the somewhat awkward tension in the air.

After Ichigo and Byakuya had come to pick up the children earlier, they had been invited to dinner and couldn't very well turn Jyuushiro down. It should have been a pleasant affair, except for the strange behavior that Ichigo noted in his children. Kaien was acting oddly, pushing his food around his plate and very obviously sulking as though he were unhappy about something. And Syaoran was shooting her brother strange looks, while participating in the conversation. Ichigo wondered if something had happened, but no one had mentioned anything earlier to him.

Popping a small bite into his mouth, Ichigo focused on his children. "And what did you two do today?"

"Zuru-jii-chan helped me with my kanji," Syaoran explained proudly. "I know at least ten more now."

Byakuya lifted his brow. "Congratulations," he replied, pleased as ever to hear it. "You're picking it up very quickly, Syaoran."

She beamed at the compliment, even as Ichigo turned towards her brother.

"Kaien," he prompted, "what about you?"

"Nothing really," Kaien replied as he poked listlessly at a piece of fried egg on his plate. "Just the usual, I guess."

Ichigo barely held back on his frown. Kaien usually enjoyed speaking about his exploits, and in great lengths. The strange behavior was beginning to nag on the edge of his conscious now, and he resolved to talk to his son when they got home. Now, however, wasn't the place nor the time.

"I'm afraid I was feeling a little ill earlier," Jyuushiro explained with an apologetic expression. "I wasn't able to spend as much time with them as I planned as I was resting. But perhaps next time I'll be able to help Kaien with some of his techniques. Would you like that?"

The boy shrugged and focused intently on his rice. "It's fine."

Definitely having a talk when they got home, Ichigo confirmed. The day Kaien didn't show any interest in sparring was a day something was definitely wrong.

Izuru took a sip of his water and tried to turn the conversation around. As they had all been doing since dinner was served twenty minutes ago and Kaien had proven particularly non-compliant to conversation.

"How is your division holding up, Ichigo?" he questioned. "I know Yumichika-san has been busy as of late."

"If not for him, it would probably be a disorganized mess right now," Ichigo admitted and ducked his head with a hint of shame. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

The blond nodded in agreement. "I'm sure. The paperwork must be stacking up in light of recent events."

Ichigo's head throbbed, and though the food was delicious, he still found himself pushing it around his plate with the end of his chopsticks. Emotional turmoil did not a happy stomach make.

"The unwanted mail has been stifling," he agreed with a faint sigh, wondering how many more envelopes would be gracing his desktop when he went into work tomorrow.

Yumichika had been doing a fine job of filtering out the obvious ones, but something must have gotten out to the masses. They were being more sly in their requests now, sending them in envelopes that bypassed Yumichika's scrutiny and managed to appear in front of him anyway. Ichigo considered not opening any of it and just dumping it all into the trash. If it was important, the old man could send it to him by way of messenger.

"I know the feeling," Jyuushiro murmured sympathetically, thinking of his own unwanted stack of mail that was already building up in his office. "My inbox has been stuffed with recommendations for the position."

Byakuya frowned, a touch of anger stirring inside of himself at the thought. "Already?" he questioned, surprised by the audacity and thoughtlessness of the more ambitious Shinigami.

Jyuushiro nodded. "I opened one," he replied quietly but slumped a little in his seat as an uncomfortable expression flickered across his face. "But I couldn't stomach the rest. They were--"

"Stop it," Kaien muttered, breaking into the conversation with little regard for politeness. Somehow, his utterance was sharp enough to cut through Jyuushiro's speech, despite the fact he hadn't even raised his voice.

Quiet fell across the table as the eyes of every adult turned towards Ichigo's eldest son. Kaien was staring at the tablecloth, working his jaw noticeably and his fingers were clenched around his chopsticks.

Ichigo lowered his hand and focused his gaze on his son. "Kaien," he began slowly, feeling an edge of anger and something else – grief? – in his son's reiatsu. "What's wrong?"

The boy was shaking, and after sucking in a breath, he jerked his head up and glared at his grandfather. "Just stop it," he repeated more strongly this time, as though he had gathered his resolve. He shoved back and rose to his feet, chopsticks clattering to the tabletop. "How dare you replace okaa-san?"

A deathly quiet swept through the room, making the air heavy and still. Hands paused, no longer interested in the meal laid before them. And even Syaoran was gaping at her brother, aghast and confused by his behavior. Byakuya and Ichigo exchanged a glance, but it was Jyuushiro who responded.

"Kaien, I'm not trying to replace anyone," he put in softly, hand lowering to the table as all desire to eat was washed out of him at the accusation in the young boy's eyes.

"You are," Kaien insisted, hands bunching into fists at his side. "I saw them on your desk. You're already _looking_!"

Ichigo's eyes widened. "You were snooping around?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow twitching. He was a little angry that Kaien had so rudely stuck his nose where it didn't belong. And not only that, but he was accusing his grandfather of something purely on that sneaky behavior.

"I wasn't snooping," Kaien cried, and his eyes shimmered with tears borne of frustration and anger, though he refused to let them fall. "They were there, and I accidentally saw them!" He swung his gaze back towards Jyuushiro and pinned him with all the fury that a grieving child could hold. "How dare you replace her?"

All the color had drained from the elder man's face, and Jyuushiro swallowed thickly. "I would never--"

He wasn't even allowed to finish his statement before Kaien was continuing, "It's your fault in the first place, and now, you want to give it to someone else?"

"Kaien!" Unexpectedly, the first chastisement came from Syaoran, who was both aghast and hurt by her brother's actions. "Why are you saying that?" she cried, voice thick with emotion.

Ichigo was already rising to his feet, circling around the table to where his son was still shooting accusing glances at his adoptive grandfather. "Kaien, stop."

"No," Kaien shouted, shaking his head furiously and filling his eyes with a heated glare. "If it weren't for him, kaa-san never would have died. I won't let him replace her, too!"

Izuru's hand settled on his husband's arm, trying to offer some comfort in the midst of the roiling emotions that were spilling into the room in an enclosing tangle. Jyuushiro was shaking beneath his touch, and for all his eloquence, he simply couldn't find the words to refute Kaien's accusations. The guilt that had been riding on the back of his mind surged to the forefront with full force, drumming painfully on his heart.

It was Byakuya's voice that broke the heaviness in the room, sounding final in its sharpness. "Kaien, that's _enough_ ," he stated shortly with a look of pained disbelief glinting in grey eyes.

The boy, eyes widening at what was as near to an order as Byakuya could issue to someone who was not his subordinate, clamped his lips shut and tore his gaze away to focus on the far wall. It was obvious that more was teetering within his mind, but he kept it to himself, shoulders shaking as emotions tumbled through him. More turbulent than his young mind could properly understand.

A bit surprised by his own initiative, Byakuya exchanged another look with Ichigo, who was torn in finding his own words. Moving to his son's side, Ichigo lowered himself until he was eye level with the boy, hating the obvious distress in Kaien's face. He was still shaking. And though anger was writ into his expression, his eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

"Kaien," he began gently and reached for his son. "You know that's not true. Why would you say something so hurtful?"

Blue eyes dragged towards his father. "Because it's his fault," Kaien repeated, voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. "If she hadn't gone on that patrol like he told her to, kaa-san wouldn't have been killed. I can't... I won't..." His gaze found the floor again, a safer place to look, his jaw set in anger. "I hate him."

And then his arms were full of his son, who was clinging to him like he had when he was much, much younger. Shaking with silent tears.

Ichigo found himself speechless as he wrapped his arms around Kaien, unsure what to think of the entire fiasco. Patting the trembling boy on the back, he lifted his gaze to Jyuushiro, feeling the urge to apologize for his son's behavior.

"I'm sorry. I--"

"It's fine," Jyuushiro interrupted, swallowing through the choked feeling that gripped his throat. "He's right in many ways. If it hadn't been for me..." he trailed off and gazed down at the table where it seemed safest.

No one was quite sure of what to say next, and wordless quiet swept into the room. All interest in the wonderful dinner was abandoned as the food grew cold on their plates.

Biting back a sigh, Ichigo politely excused himself. "I'll be right back," he explained, confusion still swirling through his mind as he turned away from the table and urged his son to come with him. "Just let me talk to him. We'll get this sorted out. Come on, son."

Kaien meekly followed his father from the room, refusing to look at anyone else as he kept his gaze locked on the safety of the floor.

The silence left behind by their exit was broken when Syaoran rose from the table, determination brightening her face. "Nii-chan's wrong," she declared loudly, perhaps a bit too much since it echoed in the tension of the dining room. "We can't blame you for what happened to kaa-chan. And I'm sorry he said it. He shouldn't have."

Dark eyes glimmered. "Thank you, Syaoran," Jyuushiro murmured as she crawled into his lab and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "I understand where your nii-chan is coming from, however. I cannot dismiss his pain easily."

Fingers wrapped around Jyuushiro's hand, squeezing them gently. "Jyuu," Izuru murmured sympathetically, well-acquainted with the overwhelming feelings of guilt. "You cannot blame yourself."

"As you have told me before," Jyuushiro replied, misery heavy in his tone and drawing his shoulders towards the floor. "But until this horrible rending in my heart eases, I will always feel this way."

"Senpai," Byakuya stared, unable to keep his silence. "Believe me when I say that Kaien is only upset right now. But none of us blame you. Not I nor Ichigo." And Byakuya, in his new and unusual role of consoling kouhai, somehow found the right words to say. "Please, do not tear yourself apart over something that could not have been prevented or anticipated. None of us want to see you in pain, and I am certain that Rukia would not either."

Jyuushiro, whose eyes had fallen to the table, looked at his former student with nothing less than sheer gratitude. His words had not completely erased the guilt, but they did have the intended effect of alleviating the blame he placed on himself. A shaky smile, stretched around the edges, was cast Byakuya's way as Jyuushiro squeezed his husband's hand for strength.

"Thank you," he whispered, swallowing down the moisture that wanted to spill from his eyes. "Your words mean much to me."

A small hand patted him on the arm, Syaoran gazing up at him with some anxiety in her expression. "Don't worry, ojii-chan. Kaien will come around. I know he will."

Another of those small smiles was offered to his precious granddaughter, who wanted nothing more than to comfort her grandfather. "Your forgiveness is more than I deserve." He closed his eyes, allowing the consolation that was being offered.

He only hoped that Kaien could come to understand as well.

\---

No matter how much he stared at them, the boxes would not sort themselves out. Ichigo stood in the doorway of the spare room where he and Byakuya had placed Rukia's belongings and glowered at the four squares of folded cardboard. He really didn't want to poke through them a second time, but it was also a job that needed doing, though the quiet of his own house was unnerving.

The twins were asleep. Syaoran was reading in her room. Kaien was lying down, or at least, his son had claimed he was going to bed. Judging from the fatigue in his eyes and the way his gaze seemed focused on the floor, Ichigo was inclined to believe him. The stress of the day had taken its toll on Kaien, and while he had completely clammed up after yelling at Jyuushiro, it was obvious he was still mentally torn about it.

After the disastrous events at dinner, Kaien had withdrawn into himself, and Ichigo eventually had to excuse his family from Jyuushiro's house. The couple completely understood. Byakuya had remained behind, Ichigo assuring him that he would be fine with the children on his own. Besides, it would do Jyuushiro some good if Byakuya remained, assuring him that no one truly blamed him for Rukia's death.

Arriving home, Ichigo had dismissed Tohru and watched as his eldest children vanished to their respective rooms. Silence descended on his household, and he hadn't liked it one bit. He had spent time with the twins as he brooded over Kaien's behavior and then tucked them into bed at the appropriate time. Which then led Ichigo to his current position, having felt at a loss for something to do next to distract himself.

Sighing to himself, Ichigo forced his feet to step into the room where he lowered himself to the floor beside one of box. Glaring at it another moment more, he finally reached out and opened the flaps. Brightly colored wrapping paper was the first thing to meet his eyes, and a memory joggled at the back of his conscious.

Syaoran's birthday present. He had nearly forgotten that they had found it. Almost ridiculously relieved to have a reason to put aside going through the boxes for another few minutes, Ichigo removed the gift from the box and rose to his feet. No time like the present to give the item to its true owner.

It wasn't like him to avoid doing something, but in this, he felt he was justified. Let him save himself at least one measure of pain for the day. It had been hard enough as it was.

Tucking the gift under his arm, Ichigo stepped into the hallway and made straight for Syaoran's room. The silence of the house seemed to envelop him, and even the whisper of his tabi on the floor was overly loud. It was depressing, and he could firmly recall when it seemed his home could never shut up. It had been weeks since Kaien had run naked through the house, encouraging his father to chase him. How ironic that he should miss those innocent pursuits.

Ichigo paused outside his daughter's room and peeked inside. She was propped up on her bed, thumbing through one of her favorite books. It was one that presented a challenge but wasn't so difficult that she couldn't understand. Syaoran was determined to surpass her brother in all things possible, despite the years of difference between them. Not that age really mattered with the amount of reiatsu both were cultivating.

Smiling to himself at the sight, he rapped his knuckles against the door frame, prompting her to look up. "Tou-chan," she greeted, carefully marking her place and setting the book aside. "You can come in, you know."

He took her up on the offer, stepping inside and giving her full view of the colorful box tucked under his arm. Her eyes immediately locked onto it, and she sat up a bit straighter.

"What's that?" Syaoran asked curiously before he could even get a word in edgewise. A hint of excitement, always for the possibility of a present, entered her tone.

"Byakuya and I found this for you," he explained, handing her the carefully wrapped package.

She took it gently, eyes flicking over the wrapping and the small note attached to the top. Recognition dawned in an instant. Her birthday present from her mother. Big brown eyes took on a distinctive sheen as Syaoran cradled it in her arms protectively.

"Thank you," his little girl murmured, fingers hovering over the bright blue bow. She was hesitating; he could see that much. As though it would be some travesty to ruin the obvious effort it had taken to decorate the gift.

Ichigo hesitated and watched as she lingered over the wrapping. "Aren't you going to open it?"

She nodded and then looked up at him, as if that should be explanation enough. "I will, but..."

He understood then, just what she was asking. She tried so hard to be strong. It would be rude of him to not accept her attempts. He inclined his head.

"I'll just be in my room, okay?" he replied, not wanting to return to that room with its cold boxes. Stepping towards the door, he paused on the threshold and looked back at her. "Come talk if you want."

Syaoran nodded again, distracted, and he took that as her answer. Ichigo watched for another lingering moment before leaving his daughter alone. This was something she wanted to keep private, and he was going to respect that. It was between mother and daughter, after all.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, trying to will away the tension creeping into his body, Ichigo headed towards his own room. Something else he had been avoiding at every possible instance since the day Rukia had died. It hadn't been so bad when they were only separated, but with her gone, her former presence had seemed that much more acute.

Stepping into the familiar room, walls soaked with both his and her reiatsu – and if he concentrated, the lingering hints of Aizen's as well – he steeled himself. It was becoming easier to handle the memories, letting them wash over him rather than trying to repress. If he just accepted their return and didn't fight it, they were less painful to relive.

Mechanically, he moved towards the dresser and stripping out of his clothes, he put on his nemaki. It was probably too early to be preparing to sleep, but for some reason, he just felt tired. After clearing out Rukia's apartment and then the disastrous dinner at Jyuushiro's, a part of Ichigo just wanted to sleep.

Thinking of Jyuushiro ultimately turned his thoughts towards his son. Kaien's behavior had shocked him, though belatedly he realized he should have seen it coming. He had been sullen and withdrawn before Rukia's death, and it had only gotten worse afterwards. And it wasn't far to go, especially for a child, to jump from his mother's death to placing the blame. Ichigo was only surprised that Kaien hadn't turned his anger on him.

He knew that he needed to talk to Kaien, explain the truth and help him understand that it wasn't Jyuushiro's fault. The older captain suffered already. He didn't need to think that his grandchild hated him as well. Izuru and the children were the only things keeping him relatively happy at the moment.

Ichigo wondered just what he could say to his son. Kaien was hurting, and Ichigo found himself without the proper words. He knew all the questions Kaien was asking himself and the world. All the unfairness and all the anger. But there wasn't any proper answer to that emotion. He knew that himself.

With a sigh, he wandered over to his bed and threw back the covers. Chilled feet were grateful for the warmth of the blankets as he slipped beneath them. One hand reached out to flip on the bedside lamp, even as he reached for the well-used copy of his favorite book. He needed something to clear his thoughts.

A footstep, just a faint shuffle really, in the open threshold distracted him. Ichigo shifted his attention to the doorway and found Syaoran standing there. Her eyes were red-rimmed and brimming with oncoming tears, but her hands were empty. There was no sign of the gift.

"What is it, sweetie?"

She looked at the ground, biting her lip in a search for composure. One little hand clutched on the doorway. "I don't blame Jyuu-jii-chan," she murmured, more to herself than to him before she lifted her eyes to her father. "But I miss her, tou-chan. I can't help it."

The lost pain in her voice made Ichigo's heart clench for her, hating that she had to feel that agony. And wordlessly, he held out his arms. She came to him in an instant, climbing up onto the bed and into his lap. She curled there, much bigger than she had been when she had done this as an even smaller child, and leaned against his chest. Ichigo was quick to settle her comfortably, gently stroking a hand over her head and hair in a manner that had always been soothing.

He rocked her lightly and tried his best to comfort must have seemed like an unbearable pain. "It's okay to miss her," Ichigo murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and laying his cheek against her hair. "I miss her, too."

Ichigo heard her draw in a heavy breath, shuddering with every attempt not to break into wracking sobs. "Nii-chan's mad because I should be angry. But I don't want to be."

"It's okay not to be upset," Ichigo assured her, voice soft and low in the quiet of the room. "I'm really proud of you for being so strong, Syaoran. But you know, it's okay to cry."

She reached up with one hand, and her fingers wrapped around his arm and squeezing tightly. He could tell by the subtle shake to her body that she was already taking his advice, though her weeping was very quiet.

"I'm not mad, but..." Syaoran hesitated, struggling to control herself and speak the right words, and Ichigo waited with patience. She could take all the time she needed. "But I wish I could be mad at something. Then, I could be that instead of sad."

"It's not good to trade one emotion for another," Ichigo said carefully, not wanting his daughter to succumb to the madness that was revenge and rage. It wasn't healthy.

He didn't want Syaoran to fall into the pit that had stolen his youth from him either. Where he blamed himself from his mother's death and where he blamed himself for not being strong enough to save her. He would do whatever it took to make sure she and Kaien didn't suffer as he had.

His fingers stroked lightly through her hair, easing out a knot if he found one, but otherwise consolingly gentle. "I know how you feel, sweetie. But it doesn't help to be angry at anything. In the end, you'll end up feeling sadder than you were before."

"I guess that makes sense," Syaoran murmured, voice thick with tears. "But still..." she trailed off and snuggled closer against his warmth, tugging her legs up under her.

"But?" Ichigo prompted.

If it were at all possible, his daughter buried her face in his chest, enough so that he could barely hear her next words. "I wanna know why. Why did she have to die?"

It was the inevitable question that Ichigo had been dreading. The one that didn't have a right or wrong answer, but he knew was important all the same. Wincing, Ichigo rocked her in his arms, hoping that he didn't screw this up completely. And hoping that his words might even serve as a comfort to himself. After all, "Life isn't fair" wasn't a suitable answer to give, even if he'd learned that the hard way himself.

"There's no why, Syaoran. Sometimes bad things happen, and... we just can't explain them. Or prevent them," he paused to take in his own breath that was just a touch unstable for his own pride. "We just have to accept them."

Silence swept through the room as she considered his words, fingers tightening around his arm desperately. "You'd have saved her," Syaoran finally whispered against his blue nemaki. "I know you would've."

It hurt, by kami, it hurt. Her absolute trust and faith in him was a nearly tangible pain, and it took everything Ichigo had not to cry himself. Because she was right.

 _If_. Ichigo's pain was ruled by the laws of "if." So much could have been spared had "if" been just a bit more merciful.

"Yes, I would've," he said through a closing throat. "With all of my power." And it almost sounded like a promise, but to what, he didn't know.

Her face pushed further into the cloth. "I wish that you could've," Syaoran continued, even quieter than before.

Ichigo swallowed thickly, passed a lump in his throat that refused to shrink no matter how stridently he wrapped himself in his composure. "Me, too," he whispered. "Me, too." He leaned down and kissed the crown of her head.

The small noises emerging from her were most definitely attempts to hide the fact that she was crying. Ichigo chose not to comment on it, simply letting his daughter finally release her grief. He didn't even say a word when his nemaki dampened or when the grip on his arm had to be painful, even for her. He only held Syaoran close and wished not for the first time that he had been given the chance to save Rukia.

It wasn't that Syaoran hadn't cried before, but Ichigo knew that she had been holding herself back, trying to be strong. Just like when she had fallen sick, she had been trying to protect her father by not adding to his own pain. Ichigo was giving her the chance now to finally let it free, to allow the sorrow to wash through her in hopes of one day finding it a little easier to breathe.

Calloused fingers gently stroked over her hair, a repetitious motion that never failed to comfort Syaoran. Ichigo wished to know what Rukia had given her, what had finally pushed her past the dam of her control. But he also knew that it was something between mother and daughter. If Syaoran wanted to share, she would show him at a later point.

The minutes crawled by, not that Ichigo was counting them. He would give her as long as she needed. The tears gradually eased, leading to a tired collection of soft sniffling as Syaoran gradually relaxed in his hold. The shaking and tension laxed into fatigue as she slumped against him, falling under the spell of his fingers in her hair.

"Tou-chan?" Her voice was hoarse from the weeping, and she sniffled, one hand rising to wipe the sleeve of her robe across her face.

"Hmm?"

She hesitated. "Can I... stay with you tonight?" It was asked, almost as if she feared he would turn her down. But he wouldn't begrudge her this, not now.

"Of course. You know you don't need to ask," he replied softly and stopped stroking her hair to gently wipe his own sleeve over her face. The woven fabric of his nemaki wiped away the last traces of her tears, though he didn't doubt her eyes were swollen and rimmed with red.

Syaoran heaved a deep breath, slowly releasing it in an effort to calm herself, though it came out shuddery. The painful grip had completely vanished, but he could tell that her small reiatsu still rippled with grief. Only time would tell.

With a sudden yet careful heave, Ichigo lifted her into his arms. Syaoran released a squeak of surprise, flailing to grab onto him for stability.

"Tou-chan!"

"Bedtime for little girls," he explained, turning to the side so that he could tuck her into the covers. "Even pretty princesses."

She looked up at him through brown eyes indeed encircled by puffy redness, her face still damp. The corner of his nemaki softly wiped away the last traces of tear tracks before Ichigo leaned over and rubbed noses with her, something his mother used to do for him a long time ago. Despite her sorrow, she managed a light giggle.

"You're silly," Syaoran murmured, and then, her jaw nearly cracked with the force of a yawn that attacked her. "But I still love you."

There was nothing more healing than to hear those words from his children. Ichigo warmed, the feeling chasing away the chill of remnants of loss.

"I love you, too, princess," he responded as he slid down beside her so that his presence could help ease her into sleep.

She twisted around to get comfortable, ending up curled on her side. Syaoran looked up at him, and though she resembled her mother greatly, her eyes were a different color. And for that, Ichigo was grateful. One small hand reached up, her face losing the brief amusement and shifting to solemnity, so near an adult.

"It's okay for you to be sad, too," she whispered, as though he needed permission to let go as well. "I won't tell if you cry."

Sweet kami, he loved his children. Though often Ichigo worried that they were growing a bit too fast. Here, he was, still struggling to catch up and trying to remember when they had stopped in needing him so much and him needing them even more.

"I know," he told her, warmed by her words. "Just go to sleep."

Syaoran shook her head. "M'not tired," she protested, but the next yawn that attacked her completely belied her statement.

He smiled, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. "Liar."

"The light's still on." Another faint protest, a vain attempt at fighting off an inevitable bedtime. He wondered if that was ingrained in all children, no matter how fond they were of sleep.

"I'll turn it off in a minute," Ichigo assured her, and the conversation seemed so blessedly normal that he felt his shoulders lose an edge of tension. She was still mourning, the grief still hovered in the air, but it was lessened by the normality of it all.

Snuggling into the comfort of the covers and her father's familiar and reassuring presence, her eyes shuttered closed. "Night, tou-chan."

"Good night, Syaoran," he murmured and lightly stroked his fingers over her hair. He knew it was the quickest way to soothe her into unconsciousness.

It didn't take long, stress and grief quickly pulling Syaoran into a deep sleep. Ichigo waited until her breathing had evened out and her body slackened before carefully extracting himself from the bed. She didn't even stir, and he was reassured that she was asleep. He planned to return soon enough, but first, he had three other children to make sure were sleeping soundly.

Rising to his feet, and ignoring the creak his aching back made, Ichigo turned off the light, bathing the room in a dim darkness. He left the door wide open, allowing the light from the hallway to spill into the room. A quick glance back confirmed that Syaoran was still asleep, unbothered by his quiet exit.

Stepping into the corridor, Ichigo checked on the twins first as their room was the nearest to his. Just a few doors down. The door didn't creak as he pushed it open, a stream of light falling on their sleeping faces. Curled together as always with Mikan stealing most of the blankets. Ichigo found a smile flitting onto his face at the simple sight, the two of them sleeping peacefully.

Sure of their health and safety, Ichigo left the door cracked and moved on to the next room. Although he had tucked the twins in himself, he could never shake the urge to constantly check on his children. A fear that if he didn't they would disappear on him perhaps. He wasn't certain. He just knew better than to trust anything in his life to luck or fairness. Rukia's death was positive proof of that.

Stepping down the hall, he headed for Kaien's room, stopping briefly at Syaoran's to turn off her light. The first sign of something unusual was the fact that the door was open. His eldest child had wanted to keep it closed lately, some small effort to prove he was growing up since he didn't need the light of the hallway Ichigo supposed. Peering inside, he found empty sheets and an empty bed, and irrationally, his heart leapt into his throat.

He didn't need to panic; he needed to think. His son was old enough to leave his room without being escorted for any number of things. The bathroom or a glass of water, for example. Forcing himself to calm down and take a breath, Ichigo closed his eyes.

He ignored the organ pounding a fierce rhythm in his chest and focused on controlling his reiatsu, letting out small tendrils. These he directed to search for the burgeoning seeds of his son's own. His initial assurances of bathroom or kitchen were unfounded. He expanded his senses further.

Kaien wasn't on the back porch either. Or in the playroom. Or the main room and the back garden. And then finally… there. The small dojo that Ichigo used to practice his hand-to-hand that was connected to the side of the house.

A breath of relieved air escaped him, and muttering under his breath for a son who had worried him, Ichigo followed the small yet growing threads. His pace took him through the somewhat darkened home, which always seemed so still at night, and to the sliding door of the dojo. It was cracked open, and he peered through the gap, catching sight of his son. Kaien was kneeling on the floor, his back to the door, and his gaze seemingly locked on the stand that held his bokken attached to the wall. They often sparred here when the weather wasn't cooperating.

Slipping inside, he knew Kaien heard him when the door rattled into the port. "Why aren't you in bed?" Ichigo inquired as he padded across the floor. His words echoed in the empty space.

"Not tired," came the short response, Kaien not even turning to acknowledge his presence.

Nodding more to himself, Ichigo lowered himself to the polished wood floor beside his oldest child. "Felt like practicing?" he posed, easing into the conversation carefully. The tension in Kaien's reiatsu only proved that he was still perturbed over the day's events.

"Not really." Kaien really was an eloquent child.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Kaien's hands folded into his lap, fingers firmly enmeshed. There were also dry tear-tracks on his face. But he was otherwise solemn, gaze still locked on the wall as though he had been meditating. It was strange to see his normally energetic child sitting so still and somber.

"I see." Ichigo went silent for a minute, joining Kaien in contemplation, before he broke the subdued atmosphere again. "Want to talk about it?"

Kaien visibly flinched and then just shook his head negatively.

Taking a breath, Ichigo closed his eyes and tilted his face towards the ceiling, praying for the right words. Why did it have to be so difficult? He had put off this conversation because he wanted Kaien to have some time to think. But he also didn't want his son laboring under misconceptions. He again wondered just how he was supposed to approach this and still found himself floundering.

A part of him wondered how Isshin had ever survived this. How he had kept the will to not only live but to appear his normal albeit insane self after his own wife had died. And a small sliver of respect blossomed in Ichigo's chest at the resolve and effort Goat-Face must have used.

"Okay," Ichigo began as he came back to himself, lowering his head again and looking over at Kaien, whose shoulders had started to hunch inwards. "But I really think we should talk about your ojii-san."

There was another visible wince. "I don't want to," Kaien mumbled. His hands clenched a bit tighter around one another.

"I know," Ichigo replied with understanding etched into his tone. "But Kaien, you're misunderstanding something, and I don't think that it is fair for you to be angry with Jyuu-ojii-san over a mistake."

The moment of silence was heavy with tension. He could tell that Kaien was fighting something. "I saw them," he hissed angrily, shoulders tightening with latent hostility. "I _did_."

Ichigo took a breath. "I'm not saying you didn't," he replied carefully, realizing that he trod on very unsteady ground and a single misspoken step could send Kaien in the wrong direction. Best to choose his words cautiously. "You may have seen them, but that didn't mean your ojii-san was actually considering. In fact, he was quite angry about receiving anything. He would never think to replace your kaa-san. Never. He loves her as he would his own children. As surely as he does me and you."

His son's gaze locked on the ground. "It's still his fault," Kaien choked out, chewing on his bottom lip. "If he hadn't sent her--"

"Kaien," Ichigo gently interrupted, not even wanting him to finish his sentence. "Your kaa-san chose to take that patrol. To protect everyone, including us. That was she why she went."

Tears swam in his eyes, threatening to spill. "And he let her go," the boy cried, very obviously just wanting someone, anyone really, to blame. As if that incrimination would somehow make it easier to bear. "He didn't even stop her."

As if anyone could stop Rukia when she was determined. Not even Ichigo had found a way to do so in the decades they had been married. But he didn't see any use in telling his son that either. In his grief, he wouldn't understand the strength of his mother's will.

Kaien's shoulders were trembling now, but from anger or sadness or even a mixture of both, Ichigo wasn't sure. But he thought that he was beginning to understand the main source of his son's pain. And the reason he had lashed out at Jyuushiro, seemingly without any provocation.

He must have been running the same thoughts over in his head for the past week now, wanting to find some reason out of something unreasonable.

Ichigo lifted a hand and laid it on Kaien's shoulder, relieved when the comfort wasn't immediately shaken off. "You're not really mad at your ojii-san," he said in the softest voice possible, trying to keep the echoes to a minimum. "You are angry at me... and your kaa-san."

When Kaien didn't immediately respond, either to argue or confirm, Ichigo knew that his suspicions had been correct. Kaien's silence was an answer in itself.

"And because of that," Ichigo continued. "You're angry with yourself because you don't want to be mad at her." Squeezing his shoulder, Ichigo gently forced his son to look at him, meeting sorrow-dimmed eyes. "She didn't want to leave you, Kaien. Or your brother and sisters."

There was a trembling beneath Ichigo's touch as a single tear broke through Kaien's control, snaking down his cheek. "I know that," he said, and his voice cracked. "But I don't... I don't wanna..." Words failed him as more tears joined the solitary one that had escaped before.

Ichigo felt the pain clambering in his own chest once again, hating to see his children crying like this. His hand slid from Kaien's shoulder to cup the back of his son's head, and he pulled Kaien against his side. He tucked the boy under his arm, felt the shaking of his body and wished for a way to make this easier, less painful for his children.

There was a sniffle. "I don't wanna hate Jyuu-jii-chan," Kaien managed to get out, fingers twisting around each other as he wound them in his own lap. "But I... I'm so mad, and it hurts, tou-chan. I really miss her." He buried his face against Ichigo's side, trying and failing to restrain his grief.

"I know," Ichigo murmured, his own emotions ragged and on the edge. "And I promise... it'll get better eventually. Just bear with it."

 _Bear with it_.

The only advice he could give. It wouldn't get less painful with time, but it would become a little easier to bear. The feeling of loss wouldn't be as clenching and cold, and eventually, the happy memories would bring smiles rather than echoes of grief. He hated that he couldn't say everything was going to be alright, that he couldn't just kiss the pain away. And in that, Ichigo felt very much helpless.

He heard his son take in a shuddering breath, and it was the only acknowledgment he received that Kaien had at least listened to him. Father and son sat in silence for an unmeasured time, surrounded by the calm of the dojo and sharing their grief.

Ichigo let Kaien have several long moments to reflect on his words before he patted his son on the side. "Please, don't blame your ojii-chan, Kaien. He wants nothing more than to bring your kaa-san back, too."

A moment of silence followed his rather selfish request before he felt Kaien nod against him, head rubbing against his arm. "Okay," he replied, voice thick from his tears. He snuffled and wiped off his face with the back of his arm. "Is he... mad at me?" The question was tentative and half-afraid.

Ichigo shook his head, though Kaien couldn't really see the motion. "No, son. He is upset more than anything. Jyuu-ojii-san really loves you, and what you said hurt him."

"I'm sorry," Kaien said, and his voice cracked again. The thought of hurting his beloved grandfather made him feel guilty, adding another emotion to the mangled mess currently threading through his reiatsu.

Patting Kaien affectionately on the side, Ichigo took in a slow breath. "He would be happy to hear that from you. He does love you, you know."

He thought of the look on Jyuushiro's face when they had departed and Kaien had been studiously ignoring him, one of disheartened acceptance. Ichigo wouldn't push for anything from Kaien, didn't even think it was necessary to explain himself. Kaien's words had only deepened the guilt that Jyuushiro already lashed himself relentlessly with.

"I'll tell him," Kaien whispered, tone holding an edge of remorse.

Ichigo didn't doubt his son for one second. And he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't completely screwed this up. He hadn't driven his son away by saying the wrong thing, and hopefully, he'd managed to provide some comfort.

Silence fell between them again as Kaien sniffled a few more times, the tears slipping down his cheeks more of a slow trickle than heart-wrenching sobs. Every once in a while, he would wipe at them. But he didn't try to break from his father's hold, and Ichigo didn't press for him to do so. After all, it wouldn't be long before Kaien would start avoiding his father's affection altogether. And Ichigo would be damned if he forced it on his son like Isshin had and still did him.

He could hear on the edge of his senses something stirring outside. Bird or small animal perhaps. And the wind pushing through the trees, a cold autumn wind. The soft swish as the leaves fell to the ground. He wondered how deep the snow would fall this year and remembered longingly winters past. And then unbidden, he thought of Byakuya and wondered how different the holiday season would be beside the noble rather than merely with him.

He also wondered just how odd it would feel without Rukia next to him and how strongly it would affect his children.

Ichigo thought of last winter, when things had seemed somewhere close to alright for just a short time. And he had the brief thought that things were getting better, that it was going to work out after all. It hadn't lasted. When the new year came, bringing with it the issue of work and stress, so did the strain. But he could still remember those flickering hopes and the happiness he had clung to so tightly.

At his side, Kaien stirred and sniffed loudly. "Tou-san?"

"Hmm?" Ichigo responded, removed from his increasingly melancholy thoughts.

There was a moment where Kaien struggled to put his words together before he continued. "I'm going to get stronger," he replied, and it was nearly fervent, dangerously close to a vow. "Strong enough to protect everyone."

It wasn't hard to draw the connection between his son's statement and the current situation. In fact, Ichigo felt echoes of his own words coming back to haunt him. A promise he had made to himself when he had lost someone important to him and when he had nearly lost those who mattered most. He thought of how everything seemed to cycle back around and repeat itself.

Ichigo patted Kaien's side, tilting his head to look at the ceiling as memories crested over him. "I know you will," he replied and genuinely believed it. "I'm certain of it."

All thoughts of denying Kaien his wish to become a Shinigami were crushed then and there. If that was what his son truly desired, Ichigo would not stop him. He understood the need, the desire, the _drive_ to protect what was important.

Kaien made a noncommittal sound in his throat, something that Ichigo could interpret as a thank you, and that was all that was really necessary.

Nothing more was said between them until Ichigo urged his exhausted son up and guided the tottering boy back to his own room. There, Kaien threw himself down on his bed, burrowed half-in and half-out of the covers and promptly fell asleep. Ichigo was left to return to his own bed, where Syaoran was still sleeping peacefully.

He crawled in beside her and stared up at the darkened ceiling. The exhaustion of the day washed over him like a heavy wave. And soon, he slipped under the tide, following the rest of his household into a weary sleep.

* * *

 


	25. Apologies

It was strange to be home, surrounded by the silence of his manor and within his own company. After the last few weeks or months perhaps of being in the constant presence of Ichigo, the children, or both, it felt odd to be on his own. He was all too aware of the stillness of his house in that moment and the quiet, which had once been very relaxing. Byakuya suddenly longed for the sound of the children playing down the hall. Or just the simple and usual hustle-bustle of a house in motion.

It was probably the first day off he had spent by himself, and while he was grateful for the time to put some of his own affairs in order, it still felt odd to him. He understood, a bit belatedly, that he was actually missing Ichigo's presence. Ichigo and the children. He hadn't even realized he had become that acclimated to their existence in his life.

With a sigh, Byakuya boredly returned his attentions to the matters that had been patiently awaiting him. A pile of envelopes on his desk – his own unwanted stack of marriage proposals. Unlike Ichigo, however, he had been receiving these for years despite his complete lack of response to a single one. That didn't seem to put any of the eligible ladies off in the slightest.

Gathering the stack into an easier to manage pile, Byakuya dropped them into the trash without even bothering to open a single one. He wasn't interested, plainly put, and sooner or later, he would have to explain that to his grandmother. Unfortunately, Byakuya was more interested in the latter, putting it off as long as possible. It was a trial to speak to his grandmother, as she usually only heard what she wanted to hear and refused to take no for any sort of answer.

Byakuya was in the process of moving on to the next order of business, a few legal documents that had been generated as a result of Rukia's death, when a messenger appeared in the open doorway of his study. The distinct crest of the Kuchiki clan was emblazoned rather visibly on her uniform. He didn't bother to repress his sigh.

"Enter."

The woman inclined her head. "Yes, sir," she replied, stepping in and bowing deeply. She lifted up her hands and displayed a rolled parchment; the ends were pressed with wax and stamped with yet another annoyingly familiar seal. "I was instructed to place this in your hands."

Firming his lips, Byakuya accepted the scroll. "Thank you."

Holding the heavy paper, he could feel his hackles rising. Practically able to sense what was written on the document. And yet, the servant had not left. She was still waiting.

He shifted his gaze to her. "You are dismissed."

The woman hesitated. "Apologies, Kuchiki-sama, but I was told to wait for a reply. However long you needed."

Mentally shooting every member of his family a curse, Byakuya inclined his head and used his thumb to break the seal. He really had no interest on whatever was within, but he also didn't want to be trailed by a messenger for the rest of the day. It seemed ignoring his grandmother was no longer an option.

Unrolling the scroll, Byakuya gave the carefully penned words a cursory scan. It was just as he had expected. More of the same and more that he could have saved time reading. Squaring his jaw, he placed the document on the desk, resisting the urge to burn it with a Shakkahou. That would be overkill.

"Inform Midoriko-obaa-sama that I will be present shortly," he replied stiffly, already inwardly preparing himself for the pending meeting.

The messenger bowed but didn't immediately leave. "By shortly...?"

"Within the hour," Byakuya stated thinly and felt a headache already pressing at his temples. His grandmother was persistent this time, leaving him no room for escape.

She seemed accepting of this answer. "Yes, sir." The messenger bowed again and then dismissed herself, vanishing as abruptly as she had appeared. No doubt to convey his response to his grandmother.

Byakuya lifted a hand and rubbed briefly at his temple. It did nothing for the throbbing pulse at his fingertips. He quickly organized the papers scattered in front of him and rose to his feet, only belatedly realizing that his current attire was not suitable for a visit with his grandmother. Or any member of the elder council. And most certainly not if he planned on making some sort of stand. He was the head of the house; that was true. But that didn't mean he was above their rebuke.

He hurried to change, putting on one of his more elegant uchikake [1]. Byakuya splashed water over his face to appear more presentable and mentally steeled himself for the migraines that were sure to come. Dealing with the elders had never been something he enjoyed, especially not now when he was certain of the topics to be discussed. Rukia – probably their priority. Ichigo. And most likely, his own status as an unwed head.

Thirty minutes later, Byakuya was presenting himself at the Kuchiki main manor, an expansive collection of elegant homes all clustered together and surrounded by sprawling gardens. About as royal as Soul Society came without being the home of the actual supposed king. Servants immediately led him to his grandmother's favorite room, the drawing room. And Byakuya wondered if she truly planned to confront him on her own. After all, the summons – carefully disguised as an inquiry into his life – were more or less guarding an intention of the Kuchiki elders to badger him into marrying, disowning Rukia, and other such things he had stridently been avoiding doing. Mostly because he planned not to and it was rather difficult to tell any Kuchiki "no."

His grandmother was placidly sipping tea as he entered and thumbing through an old and likely valuable book of haiku. He had heard rumors that she was an avid reader of poetry. For a moment, Byakuya was surprised by her solitary presence, wondering when the rest of the elders will appear. He even found himself glancing around suspiciously, as though the other Kuchiki would do something as low as lie in wait. He caught himself before his grandmother did, however, and after an internal chastising moment, he lowered himself to the cushion across the table from her.

Kuchiki Midoriko was a stern woman, her age-lined face somehow always appearing perfect and poised. Make-up carefully applied and kimono pressed until each crease looked immaculate, if not brand new. He searched his memories, trying to find a single instant where he could recall her smiling, but he drew a blank. Either that or it had happened so long ago he simply couldn't remember that far back.

For the most part, his grandmother ignored him for several seconds, taking one final sip of her tea and lightly returning it to the saucer with nary a sound to pierce the unnerving silence. A page turned with a faint swish, her eyebrows lifting in appreciation of the fine wording. And then, she carefully marked her place and set it to the side. Eyes practically the same shade as his own regard him curiously.

"Good afternoon, Byakuya-sama," she began in a voice that might have been pleasant if not for the hard edge to her tone. "I was pleasantly surprised to learn that you had accepted my invitation."

As if he'd had any choice in the matter. One of his grandmother's servants represented a persistent individual, and he didn't want to be followed around by the messenger girl until he gave an answer to her liking. Midoriko surely knew how to make certain her own wishes were obeyed with never a mind to anyone else.

Byakuya's hands lay placidly in his lap, palms across the top of his thighs, and under her piercing stare, it took every effort not to twitch. She always had the ability to make him feel like a child again.

"It seemed urgent," he replied politely. "Therefore, I made certain to put aside my other duties to make myself present for your invitation."

It was a subtle way of expressing his displeasure. He knew she would understand. It was how the war began, carefully chosen words and phrases. How he hated it.

"Ah, yes, your duties," Midoriko repeated, and then, her lips twitched as though she were barely repressing her sneer. "And here, I had thought you had forgotten them."

Touché, dear woman.

Byakuya found himself sitting straighter, eyes growing colder. "I have neglected nothing that requires my attention," he stated stiffly and made no move to touch anything that might have possibly been laid out for his visit. He would not allow himself to get comfortable nor could he even be interested with his stomach in knots.

His grandmother sniffed, making the reaction somehow regal. "Only on the surface," she countered and shifted position, making herself comfortable as she fully prepared to dive into her usual spiel. "The matter of your _sister_ \--" The title was spoken as though a bad taste had just entered her mouth, the lines around her lips deepening "--has yet to be handled. And it was brought to your attention weeks ago."

His eyes did narrow, stance on that particular matter something he didn't even have to think about. "I am not disowning Rukia."

"No, of course not," Midoriko dismissed with a small and dainty wave of her hand.

And the smile that stretched her lips eerily made him think of Ichimaru. It was poisonous and just a tad greedy, hiding her true intentions behind fake joviality. It was meant to unnerve. But he also thought that not only was Ichimaru's smile miles more pleasant, but that he would rather be discussing anything with the traitor right now than sitting before his grandmother. At least, Ichimaru's intentions would be mostly clear.

"And lose such a fine addition to the Kuchiki household," his grandmother continued and clucked her tongue in disagreement. "No, I have convinced the council that allowing Rukia to remain listed as a member of this family is more blessing than curse."

Byakuya froze, paling a bit as the undercurrent of her words washed over him. It didn't take a political genius to jump to the next conclusion, especially knowing how much of a nefarious plotter his grandmother was.

"Are you implying," he started slowly, choosing his every word before he lost his composure, " that you will only continue to support her adoption despite recent circumstances because of the identity of her husband?" His voice dangerously approached a growl, but she didn't seem to notice. Either that or she was ignoring it in favor of the conversation. If one even wanted to call it that.

"Widower," Midoriko reminded him and lifted her cup to her lips, sipping primly at the tea. "Kurosaki-taichou is now a widower."

Byakuya squared his shoulder, feeling both enraged and indignant on Ichigo's behalf. "Rukia is my sister," he stated with no argument allowed in his tone. "No matter what the council may decide. And I will not use Ichigo as a... a _bargaining chip."_ And just saying the phrase tasted sour on his tongue, as though he had swallowed a very bitter fruit. "He is not your pawn to be played, obaa-sama. And neither am I."

She lifted one carefully manicured brow, almost surprised by his insolence. And he knew that she must be remembering other times. When he fought for Hisana's hand. And again, when he fought for Rukia's adoption. Byakuya was just as clear now as he was then; in this matter, he would not be easily swayed. In fact, he would not be swayed at all.

"Very well," she acquiesced a bit too smoothly and easily for his comfort. "On one condition."

Suspicious now, he regarded her warily. "And that would be?" he demanded, lips firming into a thin line of stubbornness. He had a feeling, however, that he knew exactly where her line of thought was heading.

"Marriage," she declared.

Byakuya sighed internally. He knew it.

"I have several beautiful ladies, all of respectable lineages. It is time that you produced an heir, Byakuya-sama."

It was to the credit of his control that his reiatsu didn't slam against the walls of the expansive room. To put it frankly, Byakuya was tired. Of running, of butting up against stubborn walls and trying to make them understand. The word play held little interest for him anymore, and he had better things to do than participate in their games. It was time he made his stand.

"I will say this now and only once," he put in sharply. "I am not marrying a woman of your choosing. Not now and not in the future."

He pinned her with a gaze carefully crafted to force his subordinates in line. It was one few had ever managed to disobey, if any. Not that Byakuya could recall a single one, Renji notwithstanding. There was an idiot complex that tended to block his former vice-captain's sense of survival.

Her mouth dropped, likely to say something, some rebuttal. But Byakuya cut her off before she could even get out so much as a syllable.

"I realize my duty and responsibility to the Kuchiki family. And I understand it. But I am also not the only Kuchiki within this clan. There are other options."

It was his turn to watch her grow a little perturbed, aged fingers tightening around her cup. "And so you plan to be alone for the rest of your existence?" she demanded sharply, a shrill edge in her tone. "Or have you another piece of Rukongai trash to throw in our faces? Are you determined to destroy this family?"

In retrospect, he should have held onto his control a bit better. But she had not only insulted Hisana but Rukia as well. And both were not only dear to him but departed from his world. It was like poking at a raw wound to see how much more she could make it bleed.

Byakuya's reiatsu spiked high enough to rattle the teapot and cups in the room. His grandmother paled significantly, though she somehow maintained her composure and stiffened her shoulders. The pressure of his power must have felt like a weighted cloak, pushing down on her. And yet, she somehow managed to stay straight. Kuchiki pride, after all.

"You will not," he returned frostily, grey eyes hardening with barely suppressed fury, "refer to Hisana and Rukia in that manner ever again." He took a breath and rose to his feet, glaring down at her. "I have endured your petty attempts at matchmaking, your sly manipulations both behind my back and to my face, and I have given years in service to this family. But I will not sit here and let you mock two of the most important people in my life."

She sat there in a stunned sort of silence before highs spots of red dotted her cheeks, a direct contrast to the bloodless tint of the rest of her expression. "You are abandoning the Kuchiki?" Midoriko demanded, voice a terrible rasp that she quickly attempted to remedy by sipping on her tea. A perfect play at composure that she did not contain.

Her true intentions were so very pathetic. Ichigo was little more than Rukongai trash, actually less because he had once been human and a ryoka. Even if his father was related to the captain-commander and the fallen Shiba clan. But his grandmother and the Kuchiki elders would accept him far before they would Hisana and Rukia because he had power. He had strength and respect. He was a captain, a hero; he was a face that nearly every one could recognize. He was to them a badge of honor and pride. They could overlook something small like his origins if it meant they could have him within their clutches. And Byakuya would not stand for that.

"I said no such thing," Byakuya replied and the icy tone of his voice surprised even himself. "I have merely come to realize a few important details. I may have had the misfortune to be born a Kuchiki, but I have also always been proud to be one."

His grandmother would never be able to understand his rationality, but it didn't matter to him. So long as he knew what he wanted for himself.

He could never throw away the fact that he was a Kuchiki. And though it came with this headache, this mantle he was required to wear and the family politics, he could not abandon his pride. It was both a blessing and a curse, but Byakuya could not simply toss it aside either. The Kuchiki were as much a part of him as Senbonzakura, a piece of his very being, and though he hated certain aspects of it, he would never abandon it.

It was that dilemma which had been lingering in the back of his mind, but he believed he'd found something like a solution now. He didn't have to be one or the other, do one or the other. So long as he could balance both out in the end.

Byakuya met her gaze firmly, proving that he had found his stance. That he would no longer let her influence his decisions. While he would accept her advice, every choice would be his and his alone in the end. He was the head of the Kuchiki clan, after all; it was time he started acting on that.

"I will do as I see fit for the Kuchiki, obaa-sama. This I do swear." His reiatsu simmered around him in a controlled manner. "But I will no longer allow you or anyone else to dictate my life for me. Am I clear?"

Silence swept through the room, blanketing it in a tense layer of expectation. The two Kuchiki stared at each other with eyes only shades from one another. And just when Byakuya wondered if he had finally made his grandmother speechless, the silence broke.

Midoriko slowly returned her cup to the saucer. "My dear Byakuya-sama," she said, and he could not read the emotion in her voice, it was so perfectly hidden and so perfectly _bland_. "I do believe that you have matured. Have I met my true opponent at last?"

Byakuya, despite his own composure, blinked. He wasn't sure what to make of her seemingly random statement.

She continued as though being on the receiving end of his cold disregard was something she endured every day. "This may prove interesting," she added, rising to her feet in a very elegant motion, expensive robes swishing around her. "I shall watch your attempts with an unwavering eye. And should you fall, well, I shall see that, too. Have a pleasant afternoon."

His grandmother parted on that note, sweeping from the room with an air of complete dignity and aplomb. Yet, Byakuya somehow felt as though he had won some battle or simply came out on a draw. He had come through relatively unscathed, and in that confusing mix of words, he just might have gained Midoriko's approval. Though he hadn't the slightest idea how.

He didn't labor under any misconceptions, however. He knew better than to believe she was fully on his side just yet.

He stood there for several more moments, pondering her words and actions, before excusing himself from the manor and heading home. Stranger things had happened, he supposed, than a Kuchiki acquiescing to much of anything.

Stranger things, indeed.

* * *

Byakuya suppressed a shiver as a gust of chilly wind swept over him, brushing his hair out of his face and creeping down the nape of his neck. Winter was approaching with a vengeance, despite the fact that autumn had barely begun. He had the feeling it was going to be a rough season.

"Cold?" Ichigo asked, perched beside him on the blanket set out on the ground.

In his arms, a wriggling Mikan kept reaching for something only her eyes could see. A gurgle occasionally slipped past her lips, eyes sparkling happily.

The noble shook his head, shifting to adjust the sleeping Ryuu, snuggled up tight against his chest. Both infants were practically swaddled in clothes to keep away the chill of the evening, a contrast to their elder brother who wore only hakama and a haori. Kaien had long since abandoned his overcoat, the exertion of running around making him overheated. He was currently fascinated by the abilities of his sparkler and kept teasing his sister with it.

"I am fine," Byakuya responded, gaze shifting to the dark sky where they were all patiently awaiting the display to begin.

"Tou-chan," Syaoran began, a pout on her lips as her gaze flickered between her uncle and her father. "When's it going to start?"

Ichigo chuckled and gave a shrug. "Whenever it starts, Syaoran. You know how Kuukaku can be."

The look on his daughter's face clearly said all that needed to be said. Kuukaku was considered the "crazy" aunt of the family, and all of Ichigo's children held that belief. Byakuya didn't blame them. She was a lot to take in at once. Kami-forbid that she and Yoruichi should get together for some of their usual mischief.

An elbow nudged him in the side, dragging his attention back to Ichigo. "You've got that look on your face," he explained teasingly. "I'm sure they didn't _mean_ to blow up one wing of your manor."

Byakuya barely held back on his sigh of aggravation. "They never intend their mischief; it just follows them," he replied, preferring not to think about that particular incident.

The other man merely snickered, however, finding the incident funny even now. Of course, anything that tended to disrupt Byakuya's stoicism Ichigo found amusing. For once, Byakuya didn't really mind. Ichigo chuckling over his irritation was better than Ichigo walking around as if the weight of all the worlds rested on his shoulders, shadows beneath his eyes, and early age-lines marring his usually youthful appearance.

"There you are."

The voice, emerging from behind Byakuya, caused both adults to turn and look over their shoulders. Jyuushiro was approaching from behind, a broad smile on his face as he was accompanied by his husband. And between them, her hands clutched by both of her fathers, was a little girl. The infamous Miharu.

"We thought we'd walk forever up this stream bank looking for you," Jyuushiro continued, the same goofy-grin on his lips that he'd been carrying for the past few days since he and Kira had successfully brought their daughter home with them.

The poor thing looked bundled up beyond belief, as though it were snowing rather than just a bit chilly. Bright green eyes and a pert nose were the only features visible behind the fuzzy hat and scarf wrapped around her head. Her fingers even had gloves on them, and Byakuya couldn't help but think that it was just like his senpai to overreact like that.

Byakuya gestured for the two men and their daughter to join them. "Ichigo chose the location," he explained with a pointed look around their selected spot.

Twenty feet away was the bank of a river, flowing calmly within its banks. And just behind them, a string of trees made it seem very closed in. Lanterns dotted both sides of the banks, proof of others awaiting the same fireworks display that happened every year at this time of the season. A tradition of which whose origins Byakuya still wasn't entirely certain.

The curve of the river they'd chosen, however, was mostly empty of others save for the couple beyond hearing range and a rowdy group of Academy students on the other side. Byakuya suspected that Ichigo preferred it that way, far from prying eyes that liked to create painful rumors.

"It's a great spot," Izuru commented, surreptitiously trying to loosen Miharu from some of her extra bundles when his husband wasn't looking.

The look of sheer gratefulness that the little girl kept shooting him amused Byakuya greatly, though he didn't let it show. Ichigo, however, held no reservations. He laughed, and with a pointed look at Jyuushiro, he shook his head.

"Can she even breathe under all that fabric?" He wondered just how many coats the poor thing was buried under.

Jyuushiro squared his shoulders, only vaguely affronted. "I just wanted to be careful. I don't want Miharu to be sick her first week at home."

"There's careful, and then, there's paranoid," Ichigo countered but waved dismissively. "Don't worry. In enough time, you'll realize what's necessary and what's not." He should know; he had four children, after all.

Tipping his head to the side, Ichigo smiled softly at the little girl. "Evening, Miharu. Nice to finally meet you."

The small smile she gave him in return was just a bit shy. "Nice to meet you, too, Ichigo-san," Miharu replied quietly, her voice soft and almost delicate, like a little china doll. She was absolutely adorable.

Byakuya greeted her also as Ichigo called Kaien over, the boy having been watching their exchange with something like apprehension. It had been the first time he'd seen his Jyuu-ojii-chan since the disastrous dinner a week ago. Undoubtedly, he was feeling particularly guilty.

Unable to wipe away his goofy smile, Jyuushiro briefly turned his attention to his other favorite young ones. "Syaoran, Kaien, are you having fun tonight?"

"Of course," Syaoran chirped, completely forgetting that she had just been impatient for the fireworks to begin.

Kaien mumbled something that could have been taken as an affirmative, gaze shifting to the side as he toed the ground with his sandal. He couldn't seem to look at Jyuushiro, all interest in his quickly dying sparkler entirely forgotten. A moment which could have only been described as awkward swept through the tiny group. Byakuya and Ichigo exchanged knowing glances.

"You know," Izuru cut through the awkwardness smoothly as he stepped forward, one hand clasped around Miharu's. "We passed a taiyaki vendor a few minutes back. Is anyone interested?"

He had spoken the magic words. Syaoran's brown eyes lit brightly as she surged to her feet, struggling for a brief moment with the folds of her robes but managing anyway.

"I would," she declared, only briefly pausing to ask for her permission. "Could I, tou-chan?"

As if either of them could resist that pleading expression, a look of childish hope on her face. It was a well-known fact amongst their family that Syaoran loved taiyaki in the same way as a kitsune did udon. Renji had always found that particularly amusing.

Ichigo waved a hand in a shooing motion. "It's fine with me," he replied. "Just don't forget your scarf," he added as she moved to take Izuru's other hand, only to backtrack to recover said item.

Jyuushiro chuckled. "Now, who's been overly careful?" he questioned as the three disappeared back towards the main street, Syaoran happily jabbering at the both of them and trying to include Miharu into the conversation.

"I learn from the master," Ichigo deadpanned, a faint shiver attacking him as the wind kicked up a notch, slapping gently on the side of his face.

The older captain laughed again, but it was clear he was distracted, the uncomfortable awkwardness still hanging over them. Kaien was circling in the background, hands shoved in his pockets. His face was filled with a nervous sort of indecision as the adults continued to converse around him.

Mikan shifted in Ichigo's arms, tugging on the folds of his kimono as though she could sense the uneasiness in the air. And Ichigo looked for a topic while his son gathered the courage to make his apology.

"How's Miharu settling in?"

"Just fine," Jyuushiro answered with a fond smile. "She's such a quiet child."

Byakuya resisted the urge to snort. "She won't be for long if Syaoran has her way," he commented with a thought to how well Yachiru and Syaoran got along. When the two of them got to babbling, it was enough to make his head hurt.

"Good point," Ichigo grumbled good-naturedly. "And whatever you do, don't let Yumichika watch over her. His influence needs to spread no further." Thoughts of his daughter and the Yumichika-charm she had been exhibiting made him shake his head in exasperation.

"Quite," Jyuushiro agreed.

"Jyuu-ojii-chan," Kaien suddenly blurted out, voice slipping into the lull in the conversation.

All adult eyes turned towards the boy, who flushed but managed to hold his ground.

"Could I talk to you? Alone?"

A hopeful glint entered dark brown eyes. "Of course, Kaien. Shall we go over there?" He gestured over to the right where there was an empty patch of riverbank near one of the many slowing thinning trees.

The boy nodded. The two departed, Ichigo and Byakuya sharing a look of understanding.

"That's a relief," Ichigo sighed, shifting Mikan in his arms as he felt the fingers of one hand beginning to grow numb. "If it isn't one thing, it's another."

Byakuya arched one brow, his own burden luckily rather docile. Ichigo had always joked that Ryuu took after Yuzu most of all and Byakuya didn't doubt it.

"Would you really expect any different?" he asked, trying to politely avert his gaze and ignore the curiosity poking at his mind.

"I really shouldn't." Ichigo replied, and his voice sounded just this side of tired. Which was really no surprise.

The last few months – no, years most likely – had been really trying for Ichigo and his family. Exhaustion was probably the least of his sufferances. And yet, he simply bore it all with the same endurance as everything else he'd weathered in his entire life. From his teenage years to his adult life, one hurdle after another. Sometimes, Byakuya had caught himself wondering how Ichigo had managed it all without going mad.

He found himself unexpectedly saying something positive. "Perhaps you should," he suggested, the words falling from his lips before he entirely chose to speak them. And only belatedly did he realize that it could be taken to convey something else entirely. Not necessarily something he didn't actually mean, just something he hadn't intended to say at that precise moment.

By Kami, Byakuya was confusing himself.

"Was that optimism I heard?"

Ichigo shifted his gaze towards him, momentarily taking it away from where Jyuushiro and Kaien were talking. The boy uneasily twisted his fingers together with an apologetic look on his face.

The Kuchiki noble resisted the urge to squirm, glad that Ichigo's ability to grasp subtlety remained as absent as usual. "Or something like it." He played off with a dismissive shrug, tilting his eyes down towards the infant beginning to wake in his arms.

The other man gave him a strange look but choose to divert his attention to his son, who was looking at Jyuushiro earnestly. The older man had lowered himself to one knee to be at eyelevel with Kaien, and there was a forgiving smile on his face as Kaien spoke with definite awkwardness. Apologies did not come easily to his son.

He watched as Kaien lowered his head in shame, eyes cast towards the ground. Jyuushiro reached out and patted him on the shoulder, clasping him kindly, and Kaien looked up at him. Jyuushiro said something that Ichigo couldn't make out, but he gathered it was some sort of acceptance because Kaien abruptly grinned and hugged his adopted grandfather.

It seemed all was well again.

Ichigo smiled a bit himself, glad that his son and Jyuushiro were no longer on at odds. Beside him, Byakuya gave the smallest of shivers for the second time that night. Ichigo couldn't help but roll his eyes at Kuchiki stubbornness. He just _knew_ that Byakuya's fine robes probably weren't warm enough, but the obstinate bastard wouldn't admit it.

"You know," he began, pretending nonchalance as he lifted Mikan underneath her shoulders and watched her giggle as he held her aloft. "It's okay to admit when you're cold, Kuchiki-taichou-sama."

Byakuya stiffened as the wind blew a gust of hair into his face, but he ignored the temporary nuisance. "I'm not--"

In perfect Kurosaki stubbornness, Ichigo easily interrupted his denial by lowering Mikan and grabbing a chunk of the blanket he had placed in his lap. Brought along for the children more than anything.

"Look," he declared, waving it demonstratively. "I'll even share a corner of my blanket."

Despite himself, Byakuya felt his lips twitch towards a smile. "Your generous offer is most appreciated," he stated as Jyuushiro and Kaien came trudging back towards them, the boy looking just a bit chilled now that he had stopped running around. "But I think someone else has laid claim to that cover." He tried to ignore the surge of disappointment that threaded through him, reminding himself that they'd yet to have that discussion.

As if on cue, Kaien flopped down onto the open blanket in front of his father, cuddling up towards both men. "It's cold," he complained, reaching for the warm cover.

Without a word, Ichigo handed it over and watched his son fondly as the boy swaddled himself in the blanket. Chuckling to himself, Jyuushiro carefully lowered himself to a corner of the large blanket that Ichigo had brought for them all.

"I wonder how much longer Izuru will be?" he said aloud, making himself comfortable as he adjusted the folds of the extra haori he had hanging over his shoulders to combat against the chilly wind.

As if summoned by his very question, the sound of giggling floated to their ears. The adults shifted to see Izuru returning, each hand clasped around one of his charges. Syaoran was clutching a half-eaten taiyaki wrapped in one fist, and Miharu carried a bag that seemed to have several more.

"I hope you didn't eat too many," Ichigo commented, eyeing the half-devoured treat with the firm gaze of a father.

His eldest daughter grinned at him, bits of paste sticking cutely to her cheeks. "Just one," she answered cheerfully. "Miharu had two!"

Jyuushiro lifted a brow. "Two?" he repeated as he shifted to make room for the final three of their little family gathering.

His husband smiled sheepishly. "How could I resist those big green eyes?" Izuru posed, guiding his new daughter to sit in his lap as he dropped down beside Jyuushiro.

Syaoran, giving her brother a disgusted look when she noticed that Kaien was hogging all of the blanket, winnowed down between Ichigo and Byakuya. The grace with which she managed the move was almost to be envied. She had been learning well from her uncle.

"Is it almost time?" she inquired, pulling out a handkerchief from seemingly nowhere and dotting daintily at her mouth with it. Damn Yumichika; Ichigo was sure his vice-captain was the culprit behind that particular notion.

Tucking her against his side with a free arm, Ichigo shifted his gaze across the water where other families and groups of friends were beginning to settle down. "Soon," he promised, shifting an increasingly energetic Mikan around; perhaps she was getting hungry.

"Did you bring me one?" Kaien demanded, rolling over to look at his sister accusingly.

She eyed him with true sibling rivalry, nose nearly turned towards the air. "Miharu did," Syaoran replied and gestured towards the bag that sat in front of Izuru and his daughter. "And make sure you thank her."

Ichigo chuckled as his eldest son grumbled under his breath, something about stingy, bossy siblings, and proceeded to make puppy eyes at Miharu. She took pity on him and pushed the bag his direction, a shy smile on her face. Kaien nearly whooped as he dug in, pulling out one that was still warm.

"He eats like an animal," Syaoran commented, wrinkling her nose as she leaned her head against her uncle's shoulder.

Byakuya's lips twitched, close to a smile. "He is your brother, Syaoran," he responded with amusement. "He'll learn manners."

He could tell by the look on her face that she didn't quite believe him. He was saved from making any further explanation as the first firework suddenly exploded in the sky above them, a shimmering and bright ball of blue light. Immediately, their eyes shifted upwards, that first flare more of a call to attention than the beginning of the show.

The lights exploded above them in an array of dazzling colors and effects, the perfect culmination to the time spent waiting.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Uchikake is the traditional, formal robe. Currently, it's considered wedding attire, but in the Edo era, it was originally worn only by court nobles. Thus the reason I used it.


	26. Of Giving In

There was a bit of a graceless stumble as Byakuya tried to open the door one-handed, the other carrying a sleeping Ryuunosuke. Ichigo attempted to help from behind him, but his hands were also occupied by Mikan and the blankets he had brought with him.

"I'll get it!" Syaoran announced helpfully, ducking between them and pushing open the front door to the Kurosaki home for them. She even went so far as to hold it, despite the yawn that she was failing to hide.

"Thanks," Ichigo grunted, hitching the pile of blankets higher in his grip as Kaien wriggled between and entered ahead of the two adults.

Byakuya sighed at the boy's enthusiasm and found himself speaking before he entirely knew what he was doing. "Kaien, get back here and help your tou-san with these blankets. And take off your waraji."

The boy skidded to a halt in the hallway, waraji nearly slipping on the floor; he glanced over his shoulder, blinking. "But I need to take my bath!" he protested and attempted to wheedle as he dutifully trudged back.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "And this would be the only time he's eager to take a bath," he muttered, losing grip on one of the blankets and watching as it tumbled to the floor, spilling bits of grass into the entryway.

Behind them, Syaoran stepped inside, closing the door. "I'll help, tou-chan. If you want." She reached to remove her waraji with a disdainful sniff.

"Suck up," Kaien murmured under his breath and threw his sandals into a haphazard stack.

Syaoran heard it, which he had probably intended, and immediately grew offended. Her eyes narrowed. "I am not."

"Alright, that's enough," Ichigo inserted tiredly, giving the fallen blanket a nudge with a disinterested foot. "No arguing. Kaien, pick this up. Syaoran, go turn on the lights in the twin's room."

"Yes, tou-chan," Syaoran agreed immediately.

With a scowl, Kaien gave a defeated huff and scooped the blanket off the floor and then stuck out his hand. "Might as well give me the other one," he said as though it were a great burden to return them to their rightful place.

It would have been amusing, if Ichigo weren't so exhausted. After the fireworks had come the celebration, followed by much drinking, eating, and socializing. He had spent the majority of his time chasing down Kaien, trying to figure out just which Shinigami had his twins, and letting his guilt do the talking by giving out several apologies. Needless to say, he was quite exhausted.

Ichigo simply handed over the other one, nearly dislodging the unconscious infant in his arms. "Make sure that one goes to the laundry, okay?"

The boy muttered something that was probably an affirmative before he trudged down the hall, pretending to be very put out. Ichigo shook his head and exchanged glances with Byakuya.

"Too young to be a teenager, is he not?" the older man questioned, and it took several seconds for the tired father to realize that was supposed to be a joke.

Ichigo's lips drew into a smile. "I hear that sometimes they start early." He leaned down and toed off his own waraji, noting that Byakuya had already done the same.

Shifting a stirring Mikan in his arms, Ichigo stepped down the hall. He wanted to get his youngest daughter in bed before she awoke completely; otherwise, he'd be up half the night with her. She wouldn't just rest quietly. No, she had to be entertained, and it would be up to him to do so.

"Takes after his father," Byakuya commented, following along behind him. "A Kurosaki trait, I imagine."

Despite himself, Ichigo chuckled, knowing that Byakuya was only teasing him. "Let's hope he didn't inherit _all_ of my better traits. Like my determination."

"I was thinking more along the lines of your stubbornness."

Ichigo snorted and shot Byakuya a knowing look. "You're one to talk. Pot meet kettle."

Ahead of them, Syaoran stepped out of her younger sibling's room and beamed brightly at her father and uncle. "The light's are on, tou-chan," she said, failing to hide another yawn. "I think I'm going to save my bath for tomorrow."

"Tired?" he questioned, Byakuya moving past him and into the twin's room. He put his free hand on her head as he noticed that she did look a little peaked. It had been a long day.

She shrugged, lips forming a small frown. "More like Kaien's making a mess in the bathroom again."

Ichigo wondered if the blankets even made it to the proper place before Kaien jumped into the bath ahead of his sister. Or if he would find them wadded into a pile somewhere half-hidden. Ichigo tried to remember if he had been this troublesome as a child; he doubted it. Goat-Face undeniably put him to shame in that regard.

Or perhaps acting up was Kaien's way of pretending like he wasn't hurt. If that were so, Ichigo could grant him a little lenience. It was better to see a bit of mischief than his son moping about like Ichigo had done as a child.

"I'll talk to him," Ichigo promised with a barely concealed sigh. "You can head on to bed, Syaoran."

"Okay." She threw her arms around him, giving him a big hug as he held her one-armed, bending to press a kiss to her forehead. "Will Byakuya-oji-san tuck me in?"

A shadow fell across the twin's doorway. "Of course, hime," Byakuya inserted as he reached to take Mikan from Ichigo. "I'd be most delighted."

Handing over his daughter, Ichigo pretended to be wounded. "Have I been replaced so quickly? Pretty soon you won't need tou-chan at all, will you?"

Syaoran looked up at him. "You're overreacting, tou-chan. I still love you." She squeezed her arms around him again and then pulled away, daintily covering her mouth as another yawn attacked her. "I'm going to get ready for bed. Night."

"Goodnight, sweetheart." He watched as she wandered down the hall back towards her bedroom, Byakuya calling after her that he would be by soon. He couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic in that moment. It seemed like yesterday when she had always needed to be tucked in and taken care of right before bed. All his children were growing faster than he'd like.

Beside him, Byakuya turned back towards the bathroom. "Go see what sort of mess Kaien is making," he suggested, walking Mikan towards her shared crib with Ryuu. "I can take care of the twins."

Ichigo nodded distractedly, and fighting back his own yawn, he wandered down the hallway towards the bathroom. Even from outside the half-closed door, he could hear the sound of water splashing. And strangely enough, there was a wet washcloth on the floor just outside of the door. Blinking, Ichigo reached down to pick it up and rapped his knuckles against the door to announce his presence as he pushed it open.

"You can wait, Syaoran!" greeted him as he slid inside. A waft of steam smacked him in the face.

Waving away the heated air, Ichigo was finally able to spot his eldest son, hands buried in his hair and covered in soap. He hadn't even turned to see the doorway, just assumed that his sister was there to bother him again.

"Did the blankets even make it to the laundry?" Ichigo asked mildly, casting a glance around the bathroom.

Kaien's clothing was scattered on the floor, some of it covered in water spatters. And there was another wet washcloth on the tile, near the door. Ichigo furrowed his brow only to belatedly realize why.

"Were you throwing towels at Syaoran?" he added exasperatedly, wishing he could understand their rivalry, even just a little.

His eldest son turned, some of the suds sliding down the side of his face as he made a face. "Tou-san," he complained, fingers still buried in his hair. "I don't need help anymore."

Looking around pointedly at the mess that would have to be cleaned, Ichigo arched one brow. "Why are you purposefully antagonizing your sister?"

Grunting, Kaien turned back towards his bath and dropped his hands. "She thinks she's so smart," he grumbled, leaning back to dunk his head in the water. "Always telling me what to do and-- Ack!" Whining turned to spluttering as the water splashed over his head and into his mouth and eyes.

"Do you need help now?" Ichigo asked with some amusement, already pushing up his sleeves and stepping towards the bath. He was a father; he should be used to his clothes getting ruined by now.

The sound of Kaien trying to spit out the mix of water and shampoo from his mouth was the only response Ichigo would get. Shaking his head, he decided to give his aid anyway. He moved to help his son rinse out the rest of the soap, gently wiping the suds away from his reddening eyes and the water from his face. Once Kaien quit spazzing out long enough to let Ichigo assist him, the rest of the bath went rather smoothly. Though Kaien did sulk about having to be helped.

"I don't know why you're so ready to grow up," Ichigo murmured as he rubbed a towel over Kaien's head and made his hair spike everywhere.

"It's no good to be a kid," Kaien muttered, trying to navigate his arms through his nemaki at the same moment as his hair was being ruthlessly dried. "I can't do anything on my own."

"Sometimes, that's not so bad," Ichigo replied, dropping the towel to the floor and retying the boy's obi; he never could make a decent knot. "Take this as a lesson from your tou-san. You can't do much of anything on your own."

Kaien sniffed, standing still long enough for Ichigo to finish the last knot. "But I am going to be strong," he replied, lifting his gaze to his father's, determination glinting in their blue depths.

The same color as his mother.

Ichigo clapped his hand on his son's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I know," he replied, gently steering Kaien out of the bathroom ahead of him. "Even stronger than I am."

"Of course!" Kaien replied, crossing his arms over his chest and enduring Ichigo's hand ruffling his hair. "Night, tou-san."

Smiling, Ichigo watched as his eldest child turned and headed towards his room. "Good night, Kaien." He stretched his arms over his head as he yawned.

Shaking his head, Ichigo ducked back into the bathroom and tried to clean up the mess Kaien had left behind. True that was more or less Nami's job, but he hated to play the part of an utter sloven. He could at least clean up the discarded laundry and pull the plug on the tub so that it would drain.

Ichigo worked quickly, finishing within minutes. Flipping off the switch, he left the bathroom door open and dumped his armful of laundry in the basket down the hall. He was proud that they landed on top of a grass-covered blanket. Passing by Syaoran's room, he heard Byakuya's voice as they spoke, but Ichigo didn't linger outside the doorway. He continued to the room the twins shared, finding that Byakuya had switched off all the lights but a lamp near the doorway. Probably for his sake.

Mikan and Ryuunosuke were sound asleep in their crib, the former succumbing to sleep before the urge to play had managed to waken her fully. Ichigo was very glad for that. His own fatigue was crashing on him, and he didn't have the energy to entertain Mikan at the moment.

He stepped towards them and watched his youngest children sleep. They would never know their mother he realized sadly as he gently drew his finger across Ryuu's clenched fist. The boy's own fingers twitched, and he made a noise in his sleep, curling closer to Mikan. They would never remember Rukia for themselves, only in the stories that Ichigo or Byakuya or their siblings would tell.

The thought only served to depress him further. But Ichigo had already resolved that he would be there for both Ryuu and Mikan. And they would never want for care, not with all the friends and family close to him. He would make certain to tell them of Rukia because they deserved to know. She had loved them; Ichigo believed that wholeheartedly.

Biting back a sigh, Ichigo forced himself out of his melancholic thoughts. Rukia's death was still a painful thought for him, still striking too fresh for his battered emotions. Despite all that had happened prior to that fateful day, Ichigo had still loved her, and he doubted that would ever completely leave him. And honestly, Ichigo wasn't sure he wanted it to.

Feeling as if he had lingered long enough, Ichigo carefully untangled his finger from Ryuu's and drew back. He tucked the folds of the blanket around the twins and stepped away, murmuring a good night to their sleeping, innocent forms. With that settled, he stepped back into the hallway, flicking the lamp off but leaving the door cracked open. Surprisingly, Byakuya was waiting for him, seeming a bit fatigued himself. Like Ichigo, he had put in full duty at his division before attending the fireworks show with his extended family.

"Syaoran asleep?" Ichigo asked, the silence of the hallway surrounding the two of them.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, the older captain inclined his head. "She will be soon. It was a long evening."

"Can't deny that," Ichigo replied, rubbing the back of his head as he futilely tried to cover his impending yawn. "Thanks. Sometimes, I think it would be better if I had more arms."

Grey eyes watched him solidly. "And how many more times must I say that gratitude isn't needed?"

"A couple more times at least," Ichigo replied, and he managed a weary smile.

The noble sniffed, one hand idly patting down the folds of his uchikake. "I suppose I had best head home. The sixth division awaits me tomorrow." When no immediate protest came, Byakuya turned towards the main hall.

Ichigo was left facing a dilemma. He had something he wanted to say, but the words were tripping his tongue, and he hated that feeling. He felt it was time he made his decision, made his choices clear. He already knew what he wanted, and it was time that Byakuya knew that as well. Byakuya had already made himself perfectly clear, and it was doing him no good to continue avoiding the issue.

"Wait," he called, sounding both exasperated and defeated in all the same moment. "I mean, do you have a minute?"

Byakuya paused, his brow furrowing as he turned back towards Ichigo. "Of course," he replied. "Is something wrong?" Confusion filtered into his face at the sight of Ichigo's expression, saying much without saying anything at all.

Feeling self-conscious now and a tad uncertain, Ichigo shook his head. "No." He shrugged and then added in a mutter, "Kami, I'm terrible at this."

The noble inclined his head, crossing the distance between them in a few short steps. He watched as Ichigo rubbed his hand over his head in an aggravated motion, as though lost in what he meant to say next.

"Ichigo?"

Brown eyes met his gaze, and fluster was causing a faint reddish tinge to appear in Ichigo's cheeks. "It's just... that conversation we were supposed to have? Well, we should have it now."

Byakuya blinked; sudden understanding rocketed through him. Along with a sense of amusement. He should have known. Ichigo was still just as unpredictable now as he had been forty years ago. And he still lived spontaneously in some things.

"I..." Words failed the noble, and he worked his jaw for a moment before firming his stance. "Of course."

"Right." Ichigo nodded, and seemed to be talking to himself internally, his brows furrowed. Finally, he gave up and shook his head, chuckling lightly. "This should be easier, shouldn't it?"

Byakuya managed a graceful shrug. "Who knows? Perhaps if we weren't standing in the hallway...?"

The suggestion appeared to calm Ichigo down, and Byakuya realized that his best friend seemed nervous. Not an apprehensive sort of nervous. More like an awkward sort of nervous. He started down the hall, heading towards the main room, and before they had even managed to get halfway there, Ichigo was already talking again. The simple act of being in motion was calming his nerves.

"I loved Rukia," he began softly, gaze distracted as he watched the hall in front of him. "And a part of me still loves her. I don't think that'll ever leave me."

Byakuya found himself fidgeting, smoothing down creases and wrinkles in his robes that didn't exist. "No, it won't." He thought of the pain in his own heart. Even to this day, he hadn't completely forgotten Hisana or his feelings for her. She would always have a piece of him, and he wouldn't give up that part either.

Glancing over his shoulder, Ichigo's smile was sad and filled with understanding. He paused in the hall, mid-stride, angling his body towards Byakuya.

"I know you understand that better than most," he commented. "I love Rukia, and I miss her in my life, but..." He paused to gain his bearings, looking down at his palm as he clenched and unclenched his hand slowly. "But I don't want to raise them alone. It was hard on Isshin, and it was hard on us, and I don't want Tohru to be the only other parent they'll ever know."

The Kuchiki noble was just a tad confused, his brow furrowing to reflect his disarray. "Then... only because of the children?" He hoped that he was merely interpreting Ichigo's words incorrectly.

"No! Yes. I don't know." Fluster took over Ichigo's expression, a pained look of aggravation joining everything else.

Tipping his head to the side and surrounded by the still silence of the hallway, Byakuya nearly found himself holding his breath. He wondered what Ichigo was trying to tell him because he wasn't sure if it was an affirmation or a gentle, if not awkward, way of saying that there was never going to be anything more than friendship. And honestly, thought of the latter hurt, making his heart ache where he had kept it carefully sealed for some time.

Ichigo dropped his hand and fell against the wall, upper back hitting first. "Maybe I'm just trying to justify something that doesn't need to be justified." He laughed, but it was pained and bitter. Self-deprecating. "I never used to be this indecisive. I mean, I know what I want – _who_ I want – but then, I remember that I didn't used to before, so how do I know now? And I ask myself what would be best for my kids, and it all gets jumbled. Then, I'm back where I started, and... and I just don't know."

Somewhere in that babble, Byakuya thought that maybe he understood. And though it made his belly clench in worry, he asked anyway.

"Ichigo, what do you want?"

The younger man shook his head and swallowed thickly, knocking his head back against the wall. "I want a lot of things. I mean, I want probably more than a man should, which is why all this stuff just keeps fucking up around me." One hand gestured vaguely, swirling around as if to include _everything_.

"Ichigo--" He was cut off before he could finish his next statement.

"I want," Ichigo began, chest heaving and a half-broken look on his face in the dim light of the hallway.

They never did make it to the main room, not that Byakuya thought it really mattered. Nothing was ever easy or simple for the two of them.

"I want Rukia back alive, so my children can know their mother. I want the rumors to go away. I want to erase everything that happened in the past couple of years and fix everything that I screwed up. I want..." He reached up and rubbed fingers over his forehead, bearing down a bit harder than perhaps he should have. "I just want my kids to be happy. I think that maybe it might be okay if I'm happy, too. Bound up in all that is you, and I think... I _know_ that I want you, too."

Byakuya was floored by the look in Ichigo's eyes. By the conflicting emotions that his best friend was releasing and belatedly realized that this was probably the first time Ichigo had admitted anything that was bothering him. He usually kept it all bottled up, trying to solve it all himself. And wrapped up in all this was a confession, a perfectly Ichigo, perfectly _perfect_ confession that Byakuya wouldn't have had any other way.

Dropping his palm from his face and letting it dangle at his side, Ichigo sighed tiredly. "I want too much," he muttered, closing his eyes as though he were standing in the face of someone making terrible accusations about his person.

And Byakuya… well, Byakuya had heard everything he needed to hear. It was permission as much as he believed. Ichigo _wanted_ him, and really, it was what he had been waiting to hear. Every since his first epiphany into the depth and meaning of his true feelings, his own indecision regarding on how to act on them. He had made his own choice before Rukia's death, which had only solidified afterwards. He was tired of being a coward.

He was certain he loved Ichigo. And he loved the children. They _were_ his family, as much as Rukia had been and still was. In fact, he couldn't thank her enough for bringing them into his life. He regretted being unable to tell her that, how much he really owed her. But it was the truth.

Byakuya crossed the small space between them in the hallway, Ichigo looking up at the sound of his footsteps. Before he could even speak another word, Byakuya kissed him. He brought his fingers to Ichigo's face, directed their lips together. There was a brief moment of surprise where Ichigo just breathed against him, and then, Ichigo was returning the kiss with thankful passion. His free hand reached out, grasping onto Byakuya's arms, fingers squeezing tightly. But he wasn't pulling away, and Byakuya knew Ichigo. If he didn't want it, he would let Byakuya know in the loudest way possible.

His tongue slid across the seam of Ichigo's lips, a teasing trace and not intending a request for entrance. Still, he somehow tasted whatever it was Ichigo had eaten at the party. Some kind of fruit, sweet. And then, Byakuya drew back, grey eyes meeting brown.

"If you want too much, I must be the most selfish Shinigami in Soul Society," Byakuya stated softly, not releasing him. "If you want me, you can have me."

Ichigo's eyes widened briefly, and then, it was Byakuya's turn to be overwhelmed by Kurosaki passion, Ichigo capturing his lips within seconds. This time, the kiss was stronger, more committing. Ichigo's tongue slid into his mouth. And it was nearly intoxicating as Ichigo's other hand grabbed Byakuya and pulled him closer, locking their bodies together in the hallway.

It was warming and comfortable, an exchange of mutual affirmation. And Ichigo realized that he was at ease with this. He didn't feel guilt, like he was betraying Rukia. A part of him relaxed, simply enjoying the kiss for what it was.

When they broke apart, Ichigo was the first to speak. "It changes everything a bit, doesn't it?"

Byakuya looked at him, lifting his shoulder in a faint shrug. "Or nothing really. It doesn't have to. We can decide all the little things later."

"Little things like who lives where?" Ichigo joked, his voice a low murmur. "And what exactly we're going to tell everyone?"

"Exactly," Byakuya replied and followed it with a faint grimace. "Though I am pretty certain the latter has already been taken care of. They've all made their own assumptions."

Ichigo frowned, his gaze dropping away. "I'm tired of their assumptions," he muttered and thought sourly of the rumors that had only added to his unhappiness. "But I don't want to feed the mill either."

"As I said, nothing need be done immediately," the noble replied, his experience in diplomacy very useful at this moment. "One step at a time."

His brow furrowed, Ichigo repeated his words to himself. "One step at a time, huh?" he murmured at such a novel concept. Especially to one such as him, where he would usually throw himself in head first and assume everything would work out. He supposed a little patience couldn't hurt.

A small sound filled the hall, and Ichigo blinked to find Byakuya chuckling to himself. "What's so funny?" Feeling as if he were being teased, Ichigo scowled and huffed.

Shaking his head, the older man hurriedly composed himself. "Nothing, I assure you." A small smile teased at the corner of his lips. "But in the nature of taking it slow, perhaps it is best if I left for the evening?"

"Yeah, probably," Ichigo replied, though he still wanted to know what Byakuya had been thinking. He'd let it go for now, however. "I don't think I can explain to Kaien and Syaoran just yet."

"Which is why this position is also not within the limits of taking it slow," Byakuya added in complete agreement, gesturing faintly to the way their bodies were molded together against the wall.

Ichigo snorted. "You seem to be stuck on that."

"As do you," Byakuya pointed out logically, gently extricating himself from the tangled position they had found themselves in. "I am not so callous as to think this would be easy considering recent circumstances. We are Shinigami, Ichigo. We have decades."

"Centuries. Millennia if we are as lucky as Jyuushiro." Ichigo raked his hand through his hair, messing up the orange spikes that were getting just a tad long. "This is good night then?"

Byakuya inclined his head. "It is. I will see you at the meeting tomorrow."

It was difficult for the other captain to repress his groan of disappointment. "Dammit, Byakuya, and here, I'd almost forgotten about it. That excuse still works, you know."

"Only because a certain someone covered for you," Byakuya reminded him, remembering the excuses he had created to cover Ichigo's tardiness and/or complete lack of appearance. He was still better than Zaraki at attending, however. And far better than Kurotsuchi had been.

"Funny how I seem to be drawing a blank." His eyes glinted mischievously.

But Byakuya let the comment slide. He couldn't tell if they were both stalling or if it was the awkwardness coming into play once more.

Patting down the front of his robes, the Kuchiki noble eyed his best friend. "So long as the blank finds you at the first division by eight tomorrow. Goodnight, Ichigo."

The teasing play slowly faded as Ichigo nodded, something like indecision in his gaze. He watched Byakuya for a moment before seeming to come to a conclusion.

Ichigo reached out, wrapping his hand around Byakuya's upper arm before the noble could pull away and leaned forward, closing the small distance between them. His mouth fell over Byakuya's gently, and they were kissing, sweet and exploratory. His tongue flicked briefly over Byakuya's lips, more of a tease than an invitation. Goodbyes weren't meant to be requests for more.

Ichigo drew back, unconsciously licking his lips as he released his hold on the other man. "Good night."

Smiling softly, Byakuya nodded and turned on his heels, heading for the front door. Despite the awkwardness of the conversation and everything else, he somehow felt lighter. As though some weight had been released from his shoulders.

One step at a time. Day by day. That was more than enough for the both of them.

* * *

Yumichika enjoyed working on Tuesday, even if the rest of the division usually treated it as a day off. The fifth had few rotations on Tuesday, and as such, it was their least busy day of the week. Most of the time, Ichigo let them all do as they wished. Yumichika was no exception, but he found that the quiet that surrounded him on Tuesdays was something to be treasured. Quiet had been so difficult to find in the eleventh, and so he had learned to savor those moments whenever possible.

Having finished his own work, Yumichika pushed open the door to Ichigo's office and left it open to air out. Recently, his captain had been locking himself up inside, and it was growing stifling. Well, he was going to fix that. And it just so happened that Ichigo was off today as well, no doubt spending time with his children and Byakuya.

Yumichika smirked a bit to himself at that thought.

Crossing the floor, Yumichika pushed open the window and let in a fresh breeze. The wind chose that moment to gust inside, just like autumn to do such a thing, sending several of the papers stacked haphazardly on Ichigo's desk fluttering to the floor. Good thing he was already planning on sorting through them.

He crouched to pick up the dropped papers, quick gaze ascertaining their importance. A few supply requisitions, already signed. And the schedule for next week, half-finished. He kept the requisitions since they needed to be sent in but returned the schedule to the only clean corner of the desk.

With a faint exasperated sigh, Yumichika lowered himself into his captain's chair behind the desk. "Honestly, taichou," he murmured and shook his head as he reached for the abundance of paperwork. "What would you do without me?"

Pursing his lips, the vice-captain began to shuffle through the papers, sorting them into appropriate piles. Those that still needed Ichigo's attention. Those that had been half looked over. And those that were completed, only needing to be sent to the proper location.

At the very bottom of the clutter, Ichigo really must have left in a hurry the day before, Yumichika found a paper that was different than all the others. One that didn't fit Soul Society's usual communiqués. Pulling it out curiously, he thought he recognized the heading and quickly scanned the contents.

Legal documents. These were Ichigo's divorce papers. And a short glance through the pages revealed that they had been signed down to the very last dotted line. Apparently, they were never returned.

Yumichika dropped the papers back down to the desk and stared at them. There really was no point to the legalities anymore now, was there? Did they really need the final blow to their relationship to arrive postmortem?

Yumichika knew that answer without having to ask anyone. Frowning to himself, he reached for the papers and gave them one last look over. No one would miss them; he was sure of it. And without further ado, he tore every last one of them in half. The sound of paper ripping filled the air, joining another gust of fresh wind from the open window.

Pleased with himself, the vice-captain rose to his feet and gathered up the paperwork that was actually complete. The remains of the divorce documents would find their way to a trash can, most preferably one that wasn't anywhere Ichigo would go near. Satisfied, Yumichika hummed something pleasant under his breath and left the office.

Time to get back to work.

* * *


	27. Epilogue: Of Happy Endings

"You know," Ichigo grumbled as they walked down the nearly deserted sidewalk, surrounded by the familiar trappings of his former neighborhood. Even after forty years, it still hadn't really changed. "I was beginning to think she'd never die."

Byakuya shot him a disapproving look. "She's your sister," he chastised, though he couldn't help the twitching of the corners of his mouth.

Ichigo had a point, after all. Karin had held out to the bitter end, nearly one hundred before finally giving in to the pull of old age. Even now, she lay on her deathbed, only awaiting the arrival of her brother before letting go.

"Of course she had to choose now," Ichigo continued, as though he hadn't even heard Byakuya's reproval. "Especially since we have to rush back to Seireitei so we don't miss Syaoran's induction. She would never forgive us."

He looked away so Ichigo wouldn't see him smile. "I think that Syaoran would understand," Byakuya responded.

"I'm still not happy about that." One foot kicked out, hitting a stray rock and knocking it into the green grass of someone's front yard. "I never wanted any of my children involved in that Kuchiki bullshit."

"It was her choice," Byakuya reminded him, but he was also in agreement with the other man. "I wouldn't have allowed it either way."

It was the absolute truth. Years ago, he had always considered it a joke between Syaoran and him mostly to tease Ichigo. But as she grew older, it quickly became obvious that Ichigo's eldest daughter had always been serious. She honestly wanted to take over his mantle as head of the Kuchiki House.

At first, both Ichigo and Byakuya had protested. Ichigo had feared that she was being pressured into making the choice, especially since she and Kuchiki Midoriko had been having tea together for quite some time. And Ichigo hadn't wanted his little girl mixed up in the affairs of the Kuchiki family. It was a political mire she was likely never to escape. Byakuya held much the same sentiment, having experienced that first hand.

Neither of them had realized, however, that she played politics better than the both of them ever had. Syaoran knew how to charm, how to command. She held her ground with poise and dignity and could talk circles around all the elders. By the time she was through with them, they believed any idea had been their own to begin with. It helped that she was nearly as powerful as her brother in terms of reiatsu and might have even become stronger if she had focused on her Shinigami studies.

Syaoran had spent a few years at the Academy before deciding that it was not for her and then turned to schooling that would better suit her aspirations. Finances and business and psychology, areas of expertise that would benefit any leader of a clan. And she excelled in them, graduating top of her class and smug in her success. She had every right to be.

Now, only Ichigo was a protester against her decision. Byakuya supported her so long as it was her decision. If he ever caught wind that she was being pressured into taking up the mantle, then he would quickly put an end to it. He would not have Syaoran – who he considered one of his precious children – subjected to the Kuchiki madness not of her own free will. He wouldn't have her undergo what he'd had no choice to take.

She had plans, plans that she'd told him in some detail but not completely. For the Kuchiki and Soul Society as a large. Byakuya wouldn't be surprised if she managed to make them all possible either. Her changes would rock Seireitei, most likely for the better. Thus, he supported her.

His grandmother did as well. Midoriko-obaa-sama was behind Syaoran's succession, the elderly woman in her last years of her life. After all, Syaoran was an even better candidate than they could have anticipated. Meeting her brother in terms of reiatsu-strength. Directly descended from the captain-commander and the Shiba clan. Not to mention her father was Kurosaki Ichigo himself and her adopted father Kuchiki Byakuya. One couldn't ask for a better lineage. And Syaoran knew it. She used the truth to her benefit, more ruthless than Byakuya could have ever expected of his cute princess.

Ichigo sighed, raking a hand over his hair. It was a discussion they'd had before, and he'd always lost because he knew better than to argue with his daughter. Syaoran was as stubborn as her father. And she had quickly picked up on Byakuya's stubborn, noble pride as well. One thing Ichigo wished she hadn't learned from him.

"I know," he muttered, and it sounded almost glum. "Why is it my children never do as expected? The only one who isn't going to be in danger is Ryuu!"

Byakuya lifted his brow. "I could clearly contest that statement," he countered as they turned down another block, Ichigo's childhood home close to the end of the street.

It would be so much quicker if they used shunpo, but there really was no need to be that swift. And Ichigo couldn't help being a bit nostalgic. Besides, Toushirou was already there. If they were a little late, Karin wouldn't be alone.

Ichigo snorted, waving one hand in the air. "He might be in the Academy, but he chose the Kidoushuu, Byakuya. They aren't exactly the first line of defense or offense in any battle."

"I wasn't referring to that," Byakuya replied, his lips twitching towards a smile as he thought of Ichigo's youngest son, not so young anymore now that he was in his second year at the Academy.

A brown eye peered at him piercingly before recognition dawned, and Ichigo chuckled, shaking his head. "I seriously doubt Miharu presents a danger to my son's health."

"One could argue that."

"Ryuu doesn't seem to mind."

Byakuya shot Ichigo a sidelong look. "That's because Ryuunosuke lets Miharu do whatever she wishes. He is an enabler."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Ichigo burst into laughter, the sound a bit too jovial considering where they were supposed to be. "An enabler?" he repeated, amusement filling his tone. "Honestly, Byakuya, he's not supplying her with drugs or alcohol. They're _friends_." He put emphasis on the last.

"Not if Miharu has her way." Byakuya sniffed.

It wasn't that he didn't like Ukitake Miharu. She was a sweet girl, if not a bit forceful... Okay, a bit was being kind. He supposed that being doted on by her fathers might have had something to do with it, but Miharu was very strong-willed. Not unlike Yoruichi and Kuukaku if Byakuya thought about it. No damsel in distress was she, and she had long ago proven it.

She and Ryuu had been close friends for a long time, as soon as Ryuu had grown enough for them to carry on a conversation. As a child, he had always followed she and Mikan around, getting involved in their trouble and most often being the one taking the blame. As Mikan's interest started turning towards other pursuits, Miharu had latched onto Ryuu, her "kawaii otouto." Even back then she had declared that she was going to marry Ryuunosuke someday.

The poor boy had never even bothered to deny her. It would have been akin to trying to stop a mad Zaraki attack. Pointless and dangerous with the risk of losing a limb in the process. It wasn't that Ryuu lacked a will of his own or that he couldn't say no, but Byakuya had the suspicion that the youngest Kurosaki allowed her whims because he honestly liked her. He was remarkably patient for a Kurosaki. So much so that people often thought that he was _Yuzu's_ child and not Ichigo's. Oh, the rumors that particular bit of speculation had started.

Ichigo wiped a hand down the front of his face and tried to chase away his grin of amusement. "Jyuushiro's ecstatic, you know," he commented as the sign of the Kurosaki Family Clinic finally came into view.

It was mostly deserted, though a few cars crowded the front drive. Friends of Karin's that she had made in the department, many of whom still considered her their senpai despite her advanced age. She had been a spry old woman.

"Senpai would be," Byakuya responded, but it was half-hearted as their amusement faded in light of the pall that seemed to hang over the household. Of course, Karin's friends couldn't have known that she wasn't really dying, just exchanging one form for the other. So they were grieving.

In their spirit forms, it was easy to make their way into the house and upstairs without drawing undue attention. The bedroom was crowded, but as they approached, a haggard looking Toushirou in an older gigai was throwing most of the visitors out into the hall. Claiming a need for some space in Karin's final moments. He noticed them almost immediately but pretended he didn't for the sake of sanity.

Ichigo chuckled and drew inside the room, slipping past an anxious looking trainee of the police academy, Byakuya alongside him. Karin, in her wrinkled and white-haired glory, was a tiny thing amidst the soft comfort of her blankets and pillows. Yet, she still commanded a presence, even with her breaths growing weaker and weaker.

"Ichi-nii," she greeted, fingers giving a little wave as she lifted them a few centimeters from the bedspread. "Byakuya-nii-sama."

Those few allowed in the room looked around and after being unable to spot the spirits simply shrugged. Most likely chalking it up to an aged woman's delusions on her death bed.

Ichigo shook his head. "They'll think you've lost your mind." He moved to her side and kissed her cheek.

Karin scoffed. "Like I care. I won't be here for too much longer."

Horrified gasps echoed from her gathered friends, and Ichigo found this particularly amusing.

"They're going to miss you."

Her features softened. "I know. But it's time for me to go," she murmured, and her eyes shifted to her gathered friends and the door to her bedroom which was closing behind Toushirou, who was leaving himself. "Everything's ready right? All the preparations?"

"Of course," Byakuya murmured, mouth twitching though he was trying to maintain his composure. "Just as you wished. From the cake down to the color of the tablecloths. And your father… his _special_ seat is all prepared."

Ichigo snorted. He knew exactly where Goat-Face was going to sit. And there wasn't anything special about it. Other than the fact that it was in the very back, behind a pillar, and next to Soi-fon. Just as he had been at Ichigo's wedding. _Both_ of them.

"Good. Now that you're here, Toushirou can stop muttering to himself." Karin snickered, but it was a weak sound compared to her usual jovial laugh. "Kami, I hope I'm young again after this."

Ichigo grinned. "Young and beautiful," he assured her. "Just like the day Toushirou met you."

She smiled at that thought, humor hiding behind her fatigue. To be honest, Karin was the last of their immediate family to journey to Soul Society. Yuzu had "died" about a year beforehand and now lived in Soul Society with Hanatarou. They were expecting their first child already; the amount of reiatsu in their family was really unreasonable.

In fact, nearly everyone that Ichigo had known and truly cared for in Karakura was already in Soul Society. Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, Chad, Ishida... everyone really. And even Kon, once Ichigo's body had reached the end of its lifespan. They had all found their places in Seireitei. Some of them entered the Academy. Some married Shinigami. Others found more administrative positions like Ishida, who was serving as liaison between the Shinigami and the Quincy when he had found other survivors in his later years in the living world along with his children.

"Oh, no," Karin suddenly cried in a dramatic voice that was betrayed by the smirk still on her lips. "I think I see the white light."

Around her, the crowd of friends pressed closer, all trying to get in their final goodbyes. Karin closed her eyes, promising that she would remember all of them and that she had cared for all of them well. Ichigo felt Zangetsu give a little tremor, and after exchanging glances with Byakuya, he knew that Senbonzakura was doing the same.

The window curtain fluttered, and the two men looked to the side, finding that Toushirou was crouched there. Out of gigai and back to his spirit form. He was already stepping inside with every intention of escorting Karin personally. Really, it made Ichigo wonder why they even had to be there at all.

"Wanted Ichi-nii here, too," Karin murmured as though she had heard Ichigo's unvoiced question, her words on the edge of a sigh. And Ichigo belatedly realized that it was on her last breath as her chest fell and didn't rise again.

Her friends broke into woeful cries, grieving her immediate loss, while the three Shinigami in the room merely watched in silence. Karin's body shimmered like a heat mirage in the summer. And then, her spirit was standing before them, clothed in a shihakushou with her sword at her side. And she looked as young as in her high school days, the same as Toushirou's current appearance.

"Hmm," Karin said and twisted around to admire her new, youthful form. "I look even better than I thought. Looks like Akon was right."

Byakuya inclined his head. "As a Shinigami, we weren't entirely sure what would happen at your death. At least, Akon-taichou's theories hold more validity than his predecessor's."

When Karin looked at him blankly, Ichigo chuckled and shook his head. "Byakuya means that he's glad we don't have to go looking for you in Rukongai. It was a trial the first several times." He shuddered at remembering the difficulties he'd had in tracking down Keigo in particular.

Karin laughed, lifting her arms above her in a stretch. "I think I feel even stronger than I did when I was actually this age."

"Impossible," Toushirou snorted, still hanging out in the window. "Now, do you want to stick around here all day or come back home?"

Taking one glance at the sorrow rising over her weeping friends, Karin stepped towards the window. "It's a bit creepy to watch them like this. Especially when I know that I'm standing right here and there's nothing left in that body."

Ichigo nodded. "You two go on ahead. I think we'll stick around for a bit."

There was a brief surge of icy reiatsu, and then, Toushirou was gone, Karin leaping into the window after him. She tossed a smirk his direction.

"Nostalgia, Ichi-nii?" she teased. "You _are_ getting old."

Before he could form a proper retort, she was laughing and slipping into late afternoon, only the faintest after-sense of her reiatsu behind her. Ichigo shook his head at her daring.

"Not acting newly dead, is she?" he questioned as they turned away from the weeping few and moved to leave his family home. It was no longer familiar to him, what with the changes that had been brought about during the years. But there were still some things that remained the same as his memories.

"She is _your_ sister," Byakuya reminded him like he had forgotten that tiny little detail. "Would you have expected her to act any different?"

The look on Ichigo's face was all the answer the Kuchiki noble needed.

He continued, allowing himself to chuckle a bit at his lover's expense. "What did you want to do here?"

Ichigo shrugged, eyes glinting guardedly. "Even a hundred years later, I still sometimes miss it. It's nice to walk around and remember."

Not entirely convinced, Byakuya eyed him critically. "Karakura or Mikan?"

The other captain ducked his head sheepishly, fingers rubbing over the back of his head. "Eh, you caught me," he answered as they stepped out of the house and into the sun-bright afternoon. "I can't help it. She hasn't been home in months."

"Empty Nest Syndrome," Byakuya murmured. "Isn't that what Yoruichi teased you with? All your children are out pursuing their lives, except Ryuu who still lives at home. You miss them."

Ichigo spread his hands helplessly. "You'd think after decades of caring for them, I'd be glad to see them go." His cheeks pinked a bit in embarrassment, even if it was Byakuya, who pretty much knew everything about him.

The Kuchiki noble still found it cute, even after all these years.

And honestly, he could understand Ichigo's position. Only a few years beforehand, Mikan had proven that she was very different from her siblings. She hadn't even spent a full season in the Shinigami Academy, instead preferring to take after her Hara-oji-san. Her interests lay purely in experimenting and the unknown, mixing strange concoctions in her room and making up crazy inventions.

It had taken much begging and pleading on Mikan's part – along with a few rather inventive practical jokes – for her to convince her father to allow her to "apprentice" under her most admired person. She hadn't wanted to join the twelfth division or even enter the Shinigami Research Center. She wanted to work under her idol, but Ichigo still couldn't figure out why she had chosen the geta-boushi.

"You could always adopt," Byakuya suggested, and he wasn't entirely certain if he was kidding or not. He'd already helped to raise four; was he ready for another?

Ichigo shook his head negatively. "Not just yet," he replied, leading the way as he leapt from street-level and up to a rooftop where it would be easier to cross Karakura. "They still need me, just a little."

"They'll never stop needing you." Byakuya recognized the tone, that of a father who really did miss his children. "Remember, they only want to think that they are grown."

The younger captain chuckled and then paused on top of what appeared to be a convenience store to regard his lover carefully. "Do you want more children?"

Ironic that he had just been considering the question for himself. He hadn't really thought about it to be honest since he'd spent so many of the last few decades helping Ichigo raise his. And since he hadn't made plans to be with anyone else, he hadn't thought of having any children of his own blood. He would always consider Kaien, Syaoran, Mikan and Ryuu to be his no matter what.

"I think the four I have are enough for now," Byakuya responded and was treated to a warm smile for his answer.

"They are a handful on their own, aren't they?" Ichigo smirked and leapt to another roof top, quickly crossing the length of the town.

Urahara-san had a new shop in a more secluded location. He spent half his time in Karakura, completing studies of the living world, and the other half in Soul Society. He freely traveled between the both, often accompanied by Isshin. Though he hadn't managed to convince his lover, surprisingly enough Nanao-san, to visit him in the living world.

And Mikan cheerfully accompanied him from world to world, often with a smudge of some questionable substance on her nose. She stopped by occasionally to see her family before she was again trotting at her sensei's side. And really, Urahara's ego didn't need the boost, but it was even worse now that he had someone refer to him as teacher.

Byakuya nodded in response to Ichigo's query, one child in particular standing out in his mind. Kaien, true to his nature and unsurprisingly just like his father, had chosen to be a Shinigami. He had entered the Academy, blown everyone away with this skill and reiatsu – though his kidoh was also a trying point for him as it had been for Ichigo. And had graduated near the top of his class. Alas, his book studies had not been as strongly pursued as his other lessons.

After shocking everyone by the breadth of his reiatsu, Kaien had then accepted entrance into the eleventh division, where he had quickly risen to the rank of fourth-seat. He spent little more than a year there before proving his skill to equaling that of a vice-captain. Not wanting to challenge Yachiru, he had pleaded for the only position left open, that of the second-seat in the thirteenth division.

Once again, a Kurosaki had rocked the rumor mill.

Many had begged him to reconsider. A few had even whispered of the thirteenth division jinx, the Ukitake curse. Any lieutenant of his was doomed to die. Unfortunately, those whisperers severely underestimated Kaien.

He had loudly declared that he was taking the position no matter what anyone said. And those who even mentioned the curse in his presence had been treated to a flagrant dousing of his reiatsu, edged with Hollow and enough to send most of them to their knees. Or at least give them a headache and nausea to rival any hangover. He wouldn't stand for anyone insulting his Jyuu-ojii-chan.

"All of them take after you more than you know," Byakuya commented wistfully, chuckling a bit to himself as he moved to another rooftop.

There was no immediate answer, and he belatedly realized that the sound of his waraji on the tiles was solitary. Frowning a bit, he paused and turned, scanning his surroundings for Ichigo. He found him, still lingering on the prior roof, his gaze captured by something at ground-level. Without explanation, Ichigo leapt down to the street, leaving Byakuya confused.

Byakuya was quick to follow, dropping down to the concrete and catching up quickly. "Ichigo," he began, following the other man's line of sight to see what had captivated him. "What are you..." His breath stuttered a bit in his throat. "Is that..."

Ichigo looked at him, his eyes wide with surprise. "You think so, too?" he questioned, hurriedly forcing his gaze back towards the human who had caught his interest.

"Rukia," Byakuya breathed, and though there were minor differences, he could have sworn that the teenager walking down the street amongst a gaggle of friends was his sister.

They shared the same facial features and were about the same height. Her eyes were a lighter shade of blue, leaning closer to grey, but her hair was just as black. Dainty with an edge of fierceness. And she was laughing, even that sound so painfully familiar.

"Is it even possible?" Ichigo questioned without taking his eyes away from the sight of someone who could have passed for Rukia's twin.

She stopped in front of a nice-looking house, hedges neatly trimmed and garden well-cared for out back. Her friends kept going as she swung open the gate and stepped inside, but she waved goodbye to them. Pale blue eyes sparkling happily. Her voice echoed a promise to meet tomorrow morning so that they could walk together to school.

And then, she continued towards the house, pausing to ruffle the hair of a child that had been playing up front. A small voice called her "onee-san" and grinned brightly before continuing to play. Rukia – or whatever her name was – smiled in return. Actually smiled! And she headed into the house, calling "taidaima" loudly. Then, the door shut behind her.

The sound that came from Byakuya's throat was strangled, completely flabbergasted by the sight. "I cannot answer that." He swallowed thickly. "My knowledge of the flow of souls is limited."

"Geta-boushi," Ichigo stated firmly. "He can tell us, can't he?"

"Let us hope."

It was in agreement that they turned, forever burning the location into their memory in the off chance that their initial reactions had been correct. To think, Rukia was already reincarnated. And possibly happy! It was more than either of them had hoped to expect and lifted something heavy in their hearts. Something that had settled there for decades, unable to ever be eased or forgotten. The faintest and oldest trickles of guilt, always lingering whenever their happiness was too strong.

Their pace was much more hurried as they crossed Karakura to the shouten's new location, on the outskirts of town where possible explosions wouldn't bother their neighbors. Standing out front, a scowling Mikan was sweeping the walk. As expected, a smudge of oil decorated one cheek. She even appeared to be muttering under her breath, her grip on the broom nearly violent.

Mikan looked up as they touched ground, scowl melting away at the sight of her parents. "Tou-chan! Chichiue!" She dropped the broom immediately and practically leaped into her father's arms for a sweeping hug. "What are you doing here?"

Chuckling, Ichigo returned the embrace, having grown used to his daughter's attacks of affection. "Oba-chan died today, so we wanted to see her off."

"Really?" she asked, bony chin digging into his shoulder as she squeezed him tightly. "Why didn't she tell me? I was here!"

"She probably thought you were busy," Byakuya inserted gamely and steeled himself for the arms that suddenly swung around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Like Ichigo, he'd had to become used to these sweeping displays of fondness. Mikan rarely held back in anything – her emotions, her aspirations, everything. It was all for the world to see and often bigger than they had imagined.

Mikan drew back, a pout on her lips. "Still, I wasn't that busy. Sensei won't even let me do anything fun."

And by fun, the girl obviously meant dangerous.

"That is not exactly a bad thing," Ichigo commented, paling just a bit at the thought of something that pervert would term dangerous. Remembering a certain method of regaining his powers came to mind.

His daughter humphed and placed her hands on her hips. "And I can't learn anything if he keeps me away from all the fun stuff!" Teal eyes flashed with annoyance, likely identifying what had made her so perturbed.

Ichigo shook his head, his innards squirming in discomfort. "I'm sure you'll get to the… ah, fun stuff eventually. You've learned some things, right?"

"Yeah..." she answered with a sigh, admitting it very grudgingly. "But not the interesting stuff." Suddenly, her face lit up as though she had gotten an idea. "You're here to see sensei, aren't you? Can you ask him to show me something neat?"

Ichigo winced, but it was Byakuya who answered.

"We'll see," he responded smoothly.

Though Mikan pouted again, she didn't argue. Ichigo never could understand why they would listen to Byakuya before they would listen to him. He could be stern if he wanted.

"Fine," Mikan drawled and drew back to snatch her broom up from the walk. "I'll just sweep up dirt and pretend to be busy." She waved one hand in dismissal. "Sensei's in the basement, just so you know."

"Thanks, sweetheart," Ichigo replied and gave her a kiss on the cheek, easily ignoring the surly look she was attempting to cast. "You should come by for a visit soon. Ryuu misses you."

Mikan sniffed. "We'll talk about that after you convince sensei to show me whatever it is he's working on right now." The swish-swish of her broom over the sidewalk accompanied her words.

"Parents don't accept bribes," Byakuya reminded her firmly as they headed into the shop, much to Ichigo's amusement. "But we'll see."

"Softie," Ichigo accused as the door closed behind him, shutting off the sound of Mikan's gleeful cry of hope. "And everyone says that I spoil them."

Byakuya tilted his chin proudly. "You do," he responded, the sound of their feet sliding over the polished wood a bare whisper.

Anything Ichigo might have said was cut off as he narrowly avoided a collision with a redheaded blur. Ichigo's hands shot out to catch Jinta before the teen slammed into him.

"Oops," the boy said unapologetically, rocking back on his heels after his momentum had been diverted. "Why're you blocking the hall?"

"And why are you careening through the shop?" Ichigo countered. "It can't be that important can it?"

Jinta immediately flustered just a bit, cheeks tinting a careful red as his gaze shifted to the side. "I just wanted to let Mikan know it was time for lunch," he mumbled.

Ichigo blinked in surprise, a suspicion beginning to grow. He exchanged knowing glances with Byakuya, who looked just as suspicious. Before either could counter properly, however, Jinta abruptly scowled and regained his usual surly composure.

"The boss is in the basement," he declared and pushed by them. "And stop coming over uninvited!" he added over his shoulder.

Byakuya sighed and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. "Teenagers," he muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes in aggravation. Honestly, he would never understand them, despite barely surviving through four of his own, two of whom were still in that rebellious stage.

Rather than argue, Ichigo simply chuckled in agreement. Luckily, there were no more untoward encounters as they found their way to the basement, remodeled after the decision to move the store. One ladder led to the massive training area, another led to an underground laboratory.

They dropped down into a room impressively lit by numerous bright and white lights, as well as cluttered full of unidentifiable objects. In fact, there seemed to be only the barest hint of a path from the bottom of the ladder and deeper into the room. They could hear a voice as they descended and followed the littered, makeshift hallway. Rounding a corner, Ichigo and Byakuya were nearly blinded by an intense flash that abruptly petered into nothing. Blinking the spots from their eyes, they were gifted to the sight of Urahara Kisuke cursing at... _something_ as he rubbed his forehead. Ichigo could only assume it was a failure of some kind.

"I take it that wasn't supposed to happen?" Ichigo asked by way of announcing his – and Byakuya's – presence.

Gray-green eyes, for once not shadowed by a ridiculous hat, jerked up to meet his entrance. Seeming even larger behind the thick plastic of his goggles. Kisuke blinked before recognition dawned, and he reached up, jerking off the protective wear.

"Ichigo!" he greeted brightly, none the worse for wear for his failure. "And Byakuya-bo. To what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden visit?" The goggles were dropped to the cluttered tabletop as Kisuke moved easily around it and the other odds and ends, idly dusting off his lab coat.

"I was in the area," the fifth division captain answered with a roll of his eyes. "Thought I'd see Mikan and ask a few questions."

Kisuke arched one brow, outlining the faint marks around his face where the goggles had rested. "Questions? Pray tell." One hand reached out, snagging a high stool and dragging it near to perch upon. His free hand gestured to something behind them. "Though from the look on your faces, I'd gather they're serious. Have a seat."

Ichigo immediately grabbed one of the rickety-looking stools and dragged it out to have a seat. Byakuya, however, took one glance at the dusty and dangerous chair and decided he would be better off standing. The look Ichigo gave him was full of knowing amusement.

"So what did you come to ask?" Kisuke questioned once they were settled, his gaze darting between the two lovers.

A moment of tense silence swept through the laboratory, broken only by the sound of an unidentified liquid gurgling as Byakuya tried to find the proper way to word the question. He worked his jaw, but it was Ichigo who actually blurted it out. His sense of tact as always leaving something to be desired. Though he had gotten better over the years.

"We saw someone today," he stated, hands clasped on his knees as his feet locked around the rung of the stool. "Someone who looked a lot like... Rukia. Do you know anything about that?"

Kisuke blinked and then seemed to draw a breath, sitting back in his stool and leaning against the table behind him. "I wondered," he began, sympathy filling his voice, "if you would ever find out. In fact, I'm surprised you did this early."

Brown eyes widened. "Then it was her?"

"Yes, it was."

Gray eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you tell us?" Byakuya demanded, disbelief filling him. He would have liked to know! Even if, technically, he shouldn't have any contact with her. It still would have been nice to have some knowledge.

Kisuke rubbed fingers across his forehead. "Because I did not know how you would react. Nor did I want your children to know. I do not believe they would have been able to handle seeing their mother with her not recognizing them."

Taking in a deep breath, Ichigo appeared to be taking the surprise rather well. "I didn't think she would be reincarnated so soon," he commented, having been under the impression that that sort of thing usually a while.

"Perhaps fate was being kind to her," Kisuke suggested. "Or whoever governs the flow of souls anyway. Would you like to know?"

Ichigo looked at Byakuya, a question in his eyes, but the noble already had his answer. And it was the same as Ichigo's. Both men nodded in tandem, nearly holding their breath with interest.

The smile on Kisuke's face was gentle and understanding. "She's the second child of a loving family with both an older sister and a younger brother. Her parents are still married and live comfortably. And last I checked, she was an up and coming star of the girl's kendo team. Her drawing skills, however, still leave much to be desired."

Ichigo found himself swallowing thickly, one question remaining unanswered. "Is... she happy?"

The shopkeeper tipped his head to the side, his grin turning towards something a bit more secretive. "Very much."

A sense of relief swept through the room, broadcast mostly by Ichigo and Byakuya who felt lingering bits of guilt slowly leave them. The fear that the happiness they had gained from one another was selfish seeped away with the knowledge that Rukia's reincarnation was happy. That she had found a measure of it in the end, despite the pain she had suffered as a Shinigami.

But it hurt, the memories of her and everything that had happened those decades ago. And it still ached for the children who had lost their mother at such an early age, but there was a hint of hope again. For the first time in so many decades, the two men felt they could breathe.

"I'm glad," Byakuya said slowly, searching for the right words. "You will at least keep us informed? Even if there is nothing we can do?"

Kisuke nodded and slid off his stool with a faint hop, reaching to tug on the strap to his goggles. "Of course." Behind him, something popped and crackled with a faint flash, and he cringed and chanced a glance over his shoulder. "I assume that was all then?"

Wisely, the two visitors began to back away from what was a potential explosion, Ichigo sliding from his stool as well.

"Mostly," the youngest man stated, eyeing whatever Kisuke was working on warily. "You'll take good care of Mikan, right? Keep her away from the dangerous experiments."

"I'll... do my best," Kisuke replied with an almost nervous laugh as his hands worked quickly, one snapping the goggles down over his eyes and the other reaching to move something around before it exploded.

It was such a startling change from the mysterious and reserved geta-boushi Ichigo had known before. Especially the sad Kisuke from after the war, having lost two pieces of his heart to Aizen's folly. Decades later, after being able to gradually move on, it was nice to see him regaining some of his former bumble-headedness as Yoruichi had once described to him.

As Kisuke became more and more distracted by his overreacting experiments, Ichigo and Byakuya made their hasty goodbyes and departed quickly. If they heard an explosion behind them, they pretended not to notice, planning to let Tessai know he'd better check on his boss.

After a quick goodbye and an extraction of a promise from Mikan to visit, the two left the relocated Shouten. Byakuya opened a gate back to Soul Society.

"She's really okay," Ichigo murmured to himself right before they stepped through it. He lingered, looking over his shoulder in the direction that they had spotted Rukia.

Byakuya could sense the nostalgia in Ichigo's reiatsu, as well as a hefty dose of relief. "I am glad to hear it," the noble replied. "Rukia deserves it."

Inclining his head, Ichigo manages a faint smile. "She does," he agreed and then gestured towards the gate. "Let's go. Or we'll be late. And Syaoran will fuss."

"We cannot have that." Byakuya's lips twitched.

And with a shared glance, the two stepped through the gate. It was time to go home.

* * *


End file.
